


The Truth in Books, Sex and Coffee Grounds

by KateLouisaRose



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Mutations Exist, Semi-Public Sex, Teacher-Student Relationship, University AU, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:47:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 28,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3098717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateLouisaRose/pseuds/KateLouisaRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he gingerly navigates his first year at university, Charles Xavier over sleeps, over drinks and over works. Raven becomes his confidant and partner in crime, a sandwich board, glitter and alcohol get him into a lot of trouble, and his stern-faced lecturer Erik Lehnsherr is hot as hell and about as out of bounds as a golf ball that landed in the lap of the Prince of Wales on a boat in the middle of the sea during a thunderstorm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still in the process of writing this so updates will be sporadic at best!

8:39am – Raven.

8.42am – Raven I’m so hungover.

8.45am – Raven please.

8.46am – I hate you so much.

**8.47am – Charles what are you doing?! YOUR LECTURE?**

8.48am – oh FUCK.

**8.50am – RUN. YOU ABSOLUTE TWAT.**

Charles fell out of his bed and stayed on all fours staring at the floor for a few seconds until the urge to vomit gradually subsided. He dragged himself into standing, leaning against the wall. He looked at the clock, and gazed stupidly at the five precious minutes he had until his first lecture started, and then he made a panicked groaning sound and flung himself at his wardrobe.

As he stumbled out of the door at one minute past nine, Charles reconsidered every decision he had made the night before that led to his horrific hangover. He had grabbed the nearest vaguely-clean-smelling item of clothing, which happened to be a thick and horribly scratchy jumper and a pair of worn Levi’s. Charles pulled at the neck of the jumper and sighed, knowing that it was going to give him the predictable scratchy-jumper rash. He hurried out of his dorm, messenger bag bashing against his leg as he ran across the green. For the first time he thanked his past self for failing the Oxford admissions test; at least here they let you run on the grass.

Somehow he made it to the English faculty building at around ten past, and sprinted the last few corridors to his lecture theatre. Before he entered, Charles took a moment to lean against the wall and casually throw up into the rubbish bin outside. He wiped his mouth, ran a hand through his hair and gingerly pushed open the door.

Silence, of the complete and utter and somehow incriminating kind. Charles cleared his throat. He made brief and terrified eye contact with the lecturer, who stared back at him with the full murderous force only university professors have fully mastered. Charles swallowed thickly, floored by the angry set of the man’s jaw and the cold apathy of his grey eyes.

“Sorry,” Charles all but squeaked, slinking towards the seats and finding a comfortable corner in the second row. His foggy, hungover mind wondered why there were so few students seated at the front and so many huddled together at the back, but he chose to ignore the growing sense of dread and carefully unpacked his laptop, too scared to look up again. The lecturer sighed audibly and returned to his opening greeting.

“As I was saying,” he continued, “tardiness will not be tolerated.”

Charles covered his face with his hands and sunk lower in his seat.

* * *

He was twenty minutes into the ninety minute lecture when his mobile vibrated in his pocket. As inconspicuously as possible, Charles slipped the phone out and unlocked it.

**9.25am - Did you make it?**

Charles rolled his eyes and gave a cursory glance towards the lecturer, who was undoubtedly saying something very important on a subject that Charles had somehow managed to tune out for the last ten minutes.

9.26am – Just about. Lecturer looks pissed. Want to die.

**9.27am – Told you those vodka shots were a bad idea.**

9.28am – What?!

**9.29am – Yeah…**

Charles rubbed his eyes and propped his head up with his hand.

“I’m sorry, am I boring you?”

Charles’s head snapped up and he was looking his lecture right in the face.

“Uh,” he blinked at the man in front of him, desperately trying to kick his brain into gear.

“If you’re not awake enough to pay attention then maybe you can see yourself out.” The man said sternly. Charles shook his head quickly.

“No no, I’m really sorry.”

“Late night?” The lecturer asked, taking a step back. Charles turned his head slightly and accidentally saw the entire lecture theatre looking at him.

“Something like that.” He murmured. The man looked at him for a second.

“Pay attention.” He reprimanded, returning to the lectern and resuming the slow trudge through the PowerPoint on the board. Charles pretended not to exist, too tired to actually do anything to alter anyone’s perception in the room so that he would really appear invisible. He watched his lecturer, desperately trying to listen to what he was saying. Post-War German Literature wasn’t exactly as dull as he expected. Charles managed to grasp the topic rather quickly after that. He even risked a brief pass through the mind of his lecturer, but his thoughts were too scrambled to follow while he was speaking; it also sounded as though the man thought primarily in German anyway. Interesting.

Charles turned a little in his seat and glanced at the other students. One boy at the back was fidgeting uncomfortably; something bulky was rustling underneath his shirt, making it look like he had hunched shoulders. Charles turned to the girl a few rows behind him. She stared him down icily. Even as Charles tentatively reached out with his powers he was shoved violently back into his own head with a searing burst of white noise. The girl’s skin shimmered curiously for a fraction of a second and then returned to normal. Charles blinked and returned his gaze to the front. His mobile buzzed.

**9.51am - Did you ever suck that guy’s dick last night? The hot one.**

9.51am - How do you know about that? And you have to be specific. There were a lot of hot ones.

**9.52am – You sucked more than one dick last night? Kudos, you big slut. And it was because you came out of the bogs looking really pleased with yourself.**

**9.53am - And you had come in your hair.**

**9.53am – And you were following some bloke who can only be described as Sex on Legs.**

9.54am – Ah yes. Carlos.

**9.54am – Mmm Español. Good work.**

9.55am – Am about to get a bollocking, and not in a sexy way. Meet me at the caf after?

**9.55am – Will do. Have fun learning.**

 Charles locked his phone and returned to his laptop, beginning to type the first notes of the lecture. Another glance at the terrifying man at the front and he caught him giving Charles a satisfied look before turning away.

The rest of the lecture passed uneventfully, with Charles more or less managing to keep up, even with the throbbing headache that was beginning just behind his eyelids. He made copious amounts of notes, even if he would never use them. Despite his powers, Charles had tried very hard to get through school with just his own knowledge; a touch of honesty that would no doubt go appreciated if anyone actually knew about his powers besides his sister. By the end of the lecture the notes had graduated into a shopping list for next Friday and a reminder of the times of his shifts at the coffee shop. The lecturer was still talking, and Charles had recently discovered that his name was Professor Lehnsherr while he regained the use of his long distance sight and was able to muster the strength to squint at the board.

Charles scratched at his neck, the jumper uncomfortably itchy against his bare skin. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever gods were listening that he’d remembered to put on pants. When the bell rang he gathered up his laptop and the reading list the professor had given out and slunk out the door again. Well, he tried.

“You.”

Charles froze, and turned. “Yes, Sir?”

The professor beckoned to him. “A word,” he commanded, and Charles hurried over to his desk at the front. “If you ever turn up to my lecture in this state again I will not hesitate to throw you out those doors myself, are we clear?” Charles blinked.

“Very. Can I go?”

Professor Lehnsherr looked up for a fraction of a second. His gaze seemed to falter slightly at the red rash blossoming around Charles’s throat, and then again at his eyes.

“Yes,” he said at last, turning back to his work. Charles nodded once and made his escape. If he caught a slight whisper of the professor’s thoughts, he would not for a second have believed them.

 _Such blue eyes…_ Charles shook his head and pushed through the double doors, rushing back to his room to change.

* * *

“How did it go?” Was the first thing Raven asked when Charles walked into the shop.

“And a good morning to you too, my heinous demon child of a sister. Don’t ever let me agree to drinking with you again.”

Raven smiled widely and wrapped her brother in a tight hug.

“You know you love it. Besides, you’re such a little shut-in otherwise; all that studying and tedious work.”

“Some people believe that’s actually the purpose of university.”

“Some people have the wrong idea about university.” Raven said pointedly, placing a kiss on Charles’s cheek. She pulled away.

“You have glitter on your forehead.” Raven told him gently, wiping it away with her thumb. “If you had any doubts that you were in a gay bar last night…”

“Oh Christ,” Charles sighed, falling into a plush seat near the window and letting his head fall back. “I bet that’s what the smug git was staring at too.”

Raven took a seat opposite him, pushing a mug of hot chocolate towards him that she had ordered earlier.

“Who?” She asked.

“My lecturer, professor, whatever.” Charles moaned, picking up the mug and noticing the extra marshmallows with a little smile. Raven picked up her own drink and took a sip.

“Ooh your professor was staring at you? Do tell.” Raven smirked, licking cream from the corner of her mouth and wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“If it was for that reason I think I’d possibly have fewer problems.” Charles said thoughtfully. “So how’s life at home without me?”

Raven shrugged. “Mum drinks, Dad’s never home and both of them blame their marital problems on me. What can I say? I’m the proverbial problem child.” She looked at Charles. “Both of them are waxing lyrical about how well they think you’re going to do, by the way; and how you’ll just ‘flourish’ at a London uni.” She added with mock bitterness.

“Raven…”

“I mean you could have passed that little test, couldn’t you? You’re like the ultimate cheat-machine. I bet Oxford was practically on their knees begging to take you. I don’t understand why you wouldn’t let Mum and Dad pay them off either; their money is like the only good thing about them.”

Charles patted Raven’s hand gently.

“This is good for me,” he said. “I don’t have to be anyone here. I can be a screw up and no one cares. Well, I care…”

Raven smiled. “I want to move here,” she said suddenly. “I want to work next summer and save up. I’ll even try to do it without help from the ‘rents.”

“You know that’s crazy, right? You’re like their barter chip, they won’t let you move out that easily.” Raven pursed her lips in thought and dipped her finger in the cream on her hot chocolate.

“How much do you think it costs to live here, anyway?” Charles asked.

“I’ll marry a rich old guy and bide my time,” she replied with a serious face.

“You’re second in line to a bloody fortune, just reap the rewards while you can.”

“Ah, I have my fingers in many pies, my friend.”

“You’ll have to off me before you get your hands on the money too, and I’m not really down with that.” Charles pointed out.

Raven tipped her head to one side. Her eyes were blue today, like his.

“I missed you.” She said quietly. Charles set down his drink.

“I missed you too.”

“How much time do you have until work?” Raven asked. Charles looked at his watch and groaned.

“None,” he replied, standing up and planting a kiss on her forehead. “Don’t get into trouble.” He said. Raven waved him away and he crossed the coffee shop to the back room to don his apron.

* * *

Early afternoon was unusually quiet in The Coffee Bean (the most unoriginal name to ever exist, Charles suspected). Charles spent the hours cleaning tables and occasionally fulfilling the odd order. When Hank walked in to take over his shift, Charles could have kissed him. His headache was back in full force and he just wanted to curl up in his room and watch Netflix.

“Rough day?”

Charles nodded at Hank and pretended to fall asleep at the counter.

“Heard you had a good one last night though,” Hank added with a smirk. Charles stood up properly.

“Just how much do you gossip with my sister?” He asked, affronted.

Hank shrugged. “We get together sometimes; braid each other’s hair, talk about boys.” He joked. Charles was well aware of the crush Hank had on his sister, even without his powers. All you needed was a pair of eyes.

Charles had known Hank since the open day at uni, and the two had struck up a conversation over all things science and literature. Granted, it was an odd combination of subjects, but Charles had always been torn between his two great loves. Genetics had always fascinated him, being a firsthand example of genetic mutation himself. Literature… well, there had always been something of a dreamer about him. Books weren’t just escapism; in fact they had taught Charles the greatest of his life lessons where his parents had failed. In fiction, it didn’t matter who you were, what or where you came from, be it great wealth or unimaginable poverty. Although Charles did not scorn his inheritance, he was not boastful about it either. In the stories he read, anyone could be a hero or a villain; it just depended on which path you took.

Charles rubbed his eyes and hung up his apron, patting Hank on the back on his way out the door, still buttoning his coat as he made his way out into the frigid autumnal evening. The right path certainly wasn’t easy; it wasn’t even very fun. Charles felt as though he was drowning in work although the term had just begun a mere week ago. There were all manner of tricks Charles could have pulled, so many favours he could have called in, but he had made a vow to himself that he would make it on his own. As he trudged through the park, leaving footprints in the frost, Charles wondered just how much his shot at independence was worth.

You couldn’t put a price on freedom, but that had never stopped anyone before.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik sat up in bed with a start, resurrected from the piles of textbooks and unmarked essays that covered his duvet. He leant over and thumbed off the alarm on his phone. Had he really fallen asleep again? He hadn’t meant to. Erik scrubbed a hand through his hair and got up, wandering towards his bathroom and turning on the shower. He walked back into his bedroom just for a moment, stirring the cluster of papers on his bed. Erik stopped as one caught his eye, and he plucked it out of the mess. It was a list of his students for the first year Post-War German Literature class. One name stood out at him, ringed in red biro. Erik stared thoughtfully at the name before tossing the paper back onto his bed and heading for the shower, stripping out of his t-shirt and pyjama shorts as he went.

As he stood under the spray, Erik recounted his interaction with said student, wondering exactly how Charles Xavier would fare in his module. The students were required to select a certain number of modules each year, equivalent to a set number of points. Charles hadn’t looked the type to be interested in what Erik had already discovered was a rather unusual topic for literature study, but his avid note taking during the lecture the other day had reassured him somewhat. Of course, Erik wanted all of his students to succeed, unaware as he was of their dedication to their chosen subject before getting to know them. Charles must have displayed great potential during the interview stage; places at the university also came at the cost of several A grades and a glowing personal statement in addition to the promising meet-and-greet.

What startling eyes the boy had, too. Erik couldn’t rid himself of the strange sensation that had come over him upon meeting that piercing gaze. Charles was intelligent, Erik could see. It was entirely possible that the reaction was a result of some other ‘special’ talent Charles possessed. Erik had never felt that way after a single glance before; he reasoned that it must be a kind of manipulative power like his own.

Legally, students and those in the university’s employment weren’t required to provide details of their abilities unless they related directly to the subject in question, regardless of whether these were ‘normal’ talents or genetic mutations. Erik counted this as a small mercy, well aware of the potential for violence in the use of his own powers. Maintaining a steady teaching career would be difficult at best with his unusual affinity for metal manipulation. In truth, Erik found it to be of more domestic value than anything else. Charles’s mutation hadn’t appeared to be physical, so it was perfectly possible that it was of a psychological nature. Then again, perhaps he was overreacting, and Charles did not, in fact, have a mutation at all.

The university ran a series of outreach programmes for the students possessing mutations. Erik thought this certainly a step in the right direction, but he knew through personal experience that the easiest way to understand your own mutation was through exploring it yourself. Erik had spent many years practising crushing cans on his parent’s farm in Germany, only distantly aware that he was different from other boys his age. Not that there had ever been anything wrong with the other boys, of course, but mutations were rare back then. They weren’t exactly common now, but mutants had since become a more widely recognised part of the community in the last few years.

Erik got out of the shower, skipped breakfast and dressed quickly, wanting to get to his office in order to begin preparation for the seminar that afternoon. Wearily he beckoned the set of keys from the kitchen counter into his outstretched hand, running his hands through his hair a few times to smooth it back. Erik grabbed his coat off the back of the chair, tied a scarf around his neck, and left his little flat.

* * *

There was no question of him affording a place closer to the university; prices were only rising further as time passed, and Erik wasn’t exactly well off despite his secure job. So he sat on the tube, one eye on his watch and one hand rooting around in his pocket for some loose change in case he had some spare time on his way there.

The wind was as bitter as ever, and every day Erik felt like the winter was closing in a little more. He was used to the cold though – liked it, even. Although, Erik fully believed that there was only one acceptable cure for numb fingers on a day like this.

Erik took a deep breath as he stepped into the coffee shop, relishing the smell of freshly ground coffee early in the morning that took him right back to his own university days. He had always been one for all nighters; that, apparently, had not changed with age. Whether he could actually still pull off the steady twenty four hours of consciousness was a different matter entirely.

Erik joined the queue, tapping out a personal reminder on his mobile, fishing in his pocket for the loose change he’d found earlier. When he reached the counter with his wallet in his mouth (he had not, in fact, had the right amount of change after spotting a blueberry muffin in the basket by the counter), Erik looked up and dropped his wallet in his surprise. The barista stared at it like it was some kind of dead thing just delivered to his doorstep by a friendly cat.

“Um, hello again.” Charles said carefully. Erik stared at him.

“Hi,”

Charles blinked at him. “Coffee?” he prompted helpfully.

“Yes. I’ll have an Americano please.” Erik said at last. Charles nodded with a smile.

“Two fifty,” he said. Erik showed him the muffin with a pathetic smile. Charles tapped something on a touch screen and added the total. Erik slotted his card into the machine and tried his best to start a brief conversation while his card was verified.

“So how long have you been working here?” He asked brightly, keying in his PIN.

“Since term started. Everyone needs a job, right?”

“Absolutely. Good to see you’re keeping yourself out of trouble.” Erik replied hastily.

“I don’t go out drinking every night, if that’s what you mean by trouble.” Charles smirked, handing Erik his coffee.

“Well, it’s also good to have some down time; perhaps not when you have a lecture the very next day, though.” He chastised lightly. The queue was growing behind him, so Erik quickly took his coffee and gave his student a small nod goodbye.

“I’ll be there on time this afternoon,” Charles added as an afterthought, as the next customer stepped up to the counter.

“Glad to hear it,” Erik replied, picking up his bag. Charles watched him leave.

* * *

10:21am – Help.

**10:22am – What?**

10:22am – Hang on, I’m going to call you.

“Hey,”

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“So that lecturer came into the shop today.” Charles hedged.

“Yeah?”

“We have a problem.”

“Charles, I’m in the middle of a very important bath right now, so if you could just spit it out, that would be very much appreciated.”

Charles tucked the phone under his cheek and pulled out his bag of baccy. “I think he might be attractive.” He replied, selecting a pre-rolled cigarette and fishing in his pocket for his lighter.

“What, you’re not sure?”

“I wasn’t sure yesterday when I was hungover and late to my lecture. Today I’ve discovered he’s actually rather good looking. You know, when he’s not berating me for being hungover and late to my lecture.”

“I can see why that would be a problem.”

“Mmm.” Charles leant against the brick wall of the alleyway and stared contemplatively at the dustbins and bin bags full of empty polystyrene cups and used coffee grounds.

“What’s he like?” Raven asked as Charles listened to the gurgle of the bath draining.

“Kind of… well. I’d say he’s of the Mr Darcy, Mr Rochester sort. He looks like one of those handsome old timey gentlemen from some Victorian romance novel.”

“Really…”

“I mean, yeah. That’s what he looks like at least.”  Charles gave a shrug he realised Raven couldn’t see and took a drag on his cigarette.

“He sounds like your type.”

“God, I hope not. That’s the last thing I need.”

“Well, normally my advice would be ‘go for it’, but since he is your lecturer I’d probably have to say _don’t_ go for it, and maybe, I don’t know, go have a sad wank or pick up a guy from the pub round the corner.”

Charles flicked away his cigarette and smiled to himself. “Sounds like a plan. My break’s over, I’ll text you later ok?”

“Sure. Try not to fall in love with anyone else while you’re at it.”

Charles grinned. “I’ll do my level best.”


	3. Chapter 3

Charles sat in the lecture theatre, at the very back row this time, chin resting in his palm and laptop open on the fold out table in front of him. He was trying very hard to listen to Professor Lehnsherr, but his eyes kept wandering, mind dipping in and out of the thoughts of the other students around him. He sifted absently through the little details of their lives like panning for gold. He plucked out small, insignificant thoughts about how cold it had been this morning, how full their bladder was, how the person jiggling their leg beside them was getting _really_ annoying. Charles stopped jiggling his leg and smiled guiltily at the girl one seat along from him. Even Lehnsherr was making a shopping list in his head as he read from his notes.

“And so we see that the development of (eggs) this literary device is firmly rooted in (orange juice) the establishment of this hierarchical structure which caused (asparagus) both political and economical upheaval in an already fragile (parmesan) society.”

Charles smiled to himself, looked at his paper, crossed out ‘asparagus’ and attempted to focus more on what was actually being said.

* * *

When he left the lecture, Charles checked his phone and found one Facebook notification, a Snapchat from his flatmate/co-worker Hank and a text from Raven which contained a link to the song ‘Hot for Teacher’ and nothing else.

The Snapchat depicted their microwave, semi-deconstructed and surrounded by Hank’s tools with the door hanging off, accompanied by the words ‘this ok?’. Charles tried to think of an adequate reply to the picture while standing in line for a coffee at the university café. He was still pondering exactly how he could express his complete dismay at now being unable to microwave his leftover pasta when he got home, when there was a slight cough behind him and the unfairly-good-looking Professor Lehnsherr tapped him on the shoulder.

“I thought you’d be rather sick of coffee by now,” he remarked, tucking a stack of papers under his arm.

“You’d be wrong.” Charles replied, digging out his wallet.

“I’ll get it,” Lehnsherr said quite unexpectedly. By the look on his face he’d surprised himself too. Charles stuttered out a thank you.

_That was weird. Was that weird? That was weird. Christus._ Charles caught Lehnsherr’s panicked thoughts and shot him a smile.

Lehnsherr handed him the cup and nodded at Charles’ repeated thanks.

“See you tomorrow,” he said gruffly, and left with his drink in his hand.

Charles stared after him for a second before someone shoved him in the back and told him to get out of the queue.

* * *

“He bought me a drink.” Charles said around a mouthful of chocolate brownie, sitting across from Raven in The Coffee Bean the next day.  

“That is the weirdest thing anyone has ever done ever.” Raven responded flatly.

 “Was it really that weird?”

“Yes.”

Charles shrugged and looked at his watch. “Go on, clear off.” Raven told him, throwing his apron at him. Charles made a sad face and put the apron on, making his way behind the counter.

His four hour shift seemed to last a lifetime, especially when Raven buggered off after about half an hour. Charles was counting down the seconds in his final fifteen minutes of work when a familiar voice broke him out of his trance.

“Interesting choice on the specials board outside.”

Charles was smiling before he even raised his head. “Um, thanks.”

Erik Lehnsherr looked good. He had a little stubble and his shirt wasn’t done up all the way, and Charles probably spent half a second too long staring at the small exposed patch of skin.

“You write it yourself?”

Charles grinned. “Yeah, actually,” Erik raised an eyebrow and his mouth curved into a slow smile.

“Interesting,” he said again.

“Tall Americano?” Charles asked after a beat.

“Sure,”

Erik was watching him with a strange expression. Charles peeked into his thoughts for just a moment, fingertips pressed to his temple as he reached for the metal portafilter and the coffee grounds.

_Unglaublich. Fantastic arse. Fuck._

The handle of the filter slipped from Charles’s grasp and he fumbled to catch it as it fell to the floor. He stopped. The filter hovered a foot from the ground, hanging there. Charles plucked it out of the air and turned, dumbfounded, towards Lehnsherr. The man was frozen, half lying across the counter, one hand outstretched and a look of pure shock in his eyes.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Charles said softly.

* * *

“You know what, forget the drink,” Lehnsherr stuttered. “I’ve just realised I’m, I’m late. Very late. Have a nice day.”

Then he was out the door.

Charles just stood there, and then Sean walked in to take over his shift, and Charles left the café in a daze.

He made it two steps outside the door before he doubled back. He stared at the sandwich board outside the café that usually advertised the specials, and swore very loudly.

_‘Wanted’_

It read,

_‘Promising young man to date my desperately single, astonishingly sexy arse (your barista today)_

_Must have a good sense of humour, low standards and a pinch-able bottom._

_Apply within.’_

* * *

“Hello?”

“I am going to _fucking kill you._ ”

“Oh good, you found my little advertisement.”

“Not only are you pimping meout on a _sandwich board_ which is not only vulgar but mildly disappointing, _he_ saw it. Lehnsherr. He saw it. Oh Christ he _saw_ it and he was smiling at me holy shit, holy shit Raven I’m going to have to call you back.”

Charles did a little indecisive twirl in the street and headed back to his flat at a half-run. Suddenly there was an awful lot for him to think about. Charles took out his phone, even got as far as opening a new text message with Raven’s name at the top, and then stopped. It was all well and good telling his sister about his crush on his lecturer, but it was quite another to give away his professor's mutation.

Charles tucked the phone back into his pocket and headed back to the flat.

* * *

Hank was lying on the floor in the kitchen, surrounded by the remnants of what had once been a perfectly serviceable microwave.

“Hi,” he said when Charles loped into the room and dropped into one of the uncomfortable kitchen chairs. “You alright?”

“I’m having a bit of an ethical conundrum.” Charles admitted.

“Anything I can help with?”

“I’m afraid not.” Charles replied with a laugh, picking up a loose screw from the floor and examining it. Hank was doing an engineering degree, but the two of them had found their shared loves in science and literature. Charles had been quite happy to find that he didn’t have to push himself to like his new flatmate, and the two had bonded very quickly, occasionally exchanging novels and textbooks and sharing interesting conversations over cups of tea in the mornings.

“You doing anything this afternoon?” Hank asked.

“Sleeping.” Charles told him.

“You know you should really get a hobby.”

“I have hobbies!”

“Picking up strange men at gay bars does not count as a hobby.”

“Speaking of which,” Charles began, “Raven and I were thinking of going out for drinks this Saturday, you fancy coming along?” Hank smiled a little.

“Sure,” he replied. Charles gave it a second. “She OK?” Hank added as nonchalantly as possible.

“She’s fine. Still single by the way.”

“Why would I care if she’s single?” Hank said a little too quickly.

“No reason,” Charles grinned.

On his way to his room, tea in hand, Charles briefly considered the possibility of sending Lehnsherr an email. Surely, he thought, it couldn’t be too forward to mention the scene in the coffee shop earlier. Sitting in front of his laptop, he closed the lid and put his head in his hands. Charles had no idea what he was going to do.


	4. Chapter 4

Before his lecture on Friday, Charles went over in his head exactly what he was, or rather, wasn’t going to say. He definitely wasn’t going to say anything along the lines of ‘hello professor, no need to worry about revealing your telekinetic abilities to me the other day, I won’t grass on you. In fact, I’ve been reading your mind frequently over the last few weeks how about that for a coincidence!’.

Charles shook his head as he entered the lecture theatre, making instant and horribly direct eye contact with Professor Lehnsherr from across the room. Lehnsherr gave him a small hand gesture probably meant to signify a wave and possibly surrender. Charles tried to slip past him but Lehnsherr grabbed his arm and muttered something into his ear which absolutely did not make Charles’s stomach flutter.

“Meet me in my office after,” was all he said before Charles was dragged into the throng of students hurrying to grab the seats as far away from the front of the room as possible. Charles scuttled to the back and sat heavily in the cushioned seat, staring blindly at the board. Lehnsherr thought about absolutely nothing interesting for the entire lecture, and Charles eventually gave up poking around in his mind and started panicking.

By the end of the hour, Charles’s palms were sweating, he felt sick and he was sure Lehnsherr was going to either kill him or get him kicked out of the university altogether. Lehnsherr’s office was on the sixth floor of an ugly tower block on the edge of campus. Charles tried very hard not to follow him there and instead hung back and watched his retreating (very attractive) behind. When he’d given it a good five minutes he took the lift up to the sixth floor and stood outside Lehnsherr’s office for a moment to compose himself before knocking.

“Come in,”

Charles opened the door and felt a small wave of relief when Lehnsherr smiled at him.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” Lehnsherr said, “please take a seat.”

Charles sat down and crossed his legs.

“I know that you may have some questions, about the other day. I want to assure you that my abilities are in no way dangerous and that I kept them a secret to avoid some unfortunate rumours that may circulate. I trust that I have your full confidence concerning the matter, and you understand that possessing a mutation comes with a certain stigma attached. Something I am reluctant to be associated with.”

Charles stared at him. “Hang on,” he said, leaning forwards, “so I’m not in trouble?”

Erik blinked at him. “No,” he said slowly.

“Oh good,” Charles grinned, settling back into the chair with two fingers resting on his temple. _So I assume you have no problem with me showing you this._

Erik physically jolted in his chair and sat up. Charles found it almost comical, listening to the scattered thoughts of panic and then of surprise. “You’re…”

“I am.”

Lehnsherr began to laugh with relief. “And I suppose you can read thoughts too; wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake?”

“I can,” Charles said evenly. The professor’s smile faded a little. “Don’t worry though,” Charles continued, “yours are a little dull, if you don’t mind me saying.” He saw the relief flood the other man’s face again, and felt a pang of disappointment.

“That’s… rather something.” Erik said softly.

“I meant to tell you that the incident with the sandwich board the other day was in no way my doing. I had no idea what was written on it when I saw you.” Charles explained hastily. Lehnsherr laughed. “I happen to have a devil of a sister and she is seems determined to set me up with a suitable boyfriend before I turn twenty.”

Lehnsherr was silent for a moment. Charles dipped into his thoughts but only found the echo of what he had just said – the word ‘twenty’ circling Lehnsherr’s mind.

“Is that what it feels like?” Lehnsherr said suddenly. “Warm, hazy; when you read people’s thoughts?”

“Oh,” Charles said falteringly, “no one’s ever described it like that before.” Raven hardly noticed when Charles read her, and if she did she always described it as vaguely uncomfortable, and then hit him with nearest available solid object.

“Oh,” Lehnsherr repeated.

“Well,” Charles said after a brief silence, “I suppose that's it then?"

Erik looked at him, his eyebrows lowered in an expression that looked alarmingly like fondness.

"I guess so."

"I should go.” Charles said brightly; he picked up his bag and turned for the door. “And by the way,” he added, with what he hoped was a reassuring and somewhat flirtatious smile, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

* * *

Erik watched him leave and gently lowered his head onto the desk with a groan. Nineteen years old. Erik was turning thirty one in May. What made the situation worse was that Charles could now apparently tell when Erik was thinking of him.

Erik went home that night, shut himself in his bedroom and turned on his laptop. He spent a long thirty minutes staring at his screen and trying very hard to feel something. Eventually he shut the laptop down and lay in bed thinking. He dozed for a few minutes, mind skipping through every interaction he had shared with his student. He pictured the soft mess of brown hair and Charles's blue eyes looking up at him. He thought of the red rash around the boy's throat the first day they had met, and how he had been unable to focus on anything but Charles's neck for the entire lecture. Erik wondered exactly when Charles Xavier had become so prominent in his thoughts, and if there was any way to make it stop.

He woke up to the hazy confusion of arousal, and staggered to the bathroom to turn on the shower. Erik stood under the warm water and brought himself off to the thought of Charles's mouth.

Afterwards he pressed his head against the cool bathroom tiles and grimaced, half in disgust for himself and half for the absolute injustice of it all. When he walked into the lecture theatre a few days later, he didn't look for those eyes he could feel watching him.

_Don't._ He thought clearly, refusing to lift his gaze to see if Charles had noticed.

* * *

Charles had not, in fact, noticed. He was sitting somewhere near the back, texting furiously and wondering if his bank balance could support a heavy weekend of drinking, or as Charles had come to re-label it, 'Raven visiting'. He was also planning how drunk he could get Hank to make him confident enough to finally make a move on his sister, but keep him away from the region of throwing up on his own shoes.

Charles was also distantly aware that he had an essay due in next week, but that was nothing strong coffee and a painful all-nighter couldn't fix.

Erik was still talking, but Charles had not paid proper attention to him for the last fifty five minutes and wasn't about to break the record in the remaining five. He focused instead on the woman sitting two rows in front of him with the silver-blonde hair and the crisp white shirt. She was the one he had noticed in his hungover state on the first day of term. When Lehnsherr wrapped it up, Charles watched the same woman make her way towards the front and begin talking to Erik. Charles bristled, strangely repelled by her proximity to Erik. There was something off about her. She was clearly older than him, perhaps a senior student or a tutor. Erik was smiling at her, one hand on her shoulder.

"OK, just this once." She was saying, "Half ten at yours then?"

"Sure," Erik replied.

Charles didn't wait around long enough to hear the rest of that conversation. He walked quickly out, hurrying to his seminar and trying not to think about Erik spending time with that woman. In fact, the idea of Erik spending time with anyone other than him gave Charles a hot, uneasy feeling in his chest, similar to heartburn. He didn't take time to analyse it. He wasn't sure he wanted to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today, any feedback would be greatly appreciated! 
> 
> In other more exciting news, I actually met James McAvoy the other day, he was very sweet and a genuinely lovely person, and yes, his accent is even sexier in person. As is his face. I also found out it's quite difficult to then go home and write smut about a character portrayed by someone who you've held an actual conversation with. Not to worry though, I'm not giving up yet!


	5. Chapter 5

“One button or two?”

Raven looked up from the mirror, dark red lipstick in hand.

“Two; I’m feeling lucky tonight big brother.”

Charles undid his shirt to the second button and stood beside Raven in his small bathroom mirror.

“You look ravishing,” he told her, running a hand through his hair.

“I always look ravishing. You don’t look so bad yourself.” Raven blew his reflection a kiss and carefully touched up her lipstick.

“You know, I could really do with getting laid tonight.” Charles mused as he rummaged through his bathroom cupboard.

“Well don’t forget you promised to go to at least one regular bar tonight,” Raven reminded him. “Give a girl a chance.”

Charles smiled to himself, face hidden by the cupboard door. “Nobody around here take your fancy? Not even a certain roommate of a certain brother you might know?”

Raven’s face appeared around the cupboard door. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” She said sternly. Charles made an expression of shocked innocence and returned to his search.

“You know,” Raven began thoughtfully, “if he just styled his hair a little and let a bit of stubble grow in, he might even be attractive.”

Charles grinned. “Only then?”

Raven shrugged a shoulder and began to apply another layer of mascara. “Hank’s a sweetheart, perhaps just a little too sweet.” She said.

“We’ll see.” Charles replied. “Now tell me,” he said, emerging from the cupboard. “Do I go for pink glitter, or blue?”

* * *

They made quite a trio. Raven danced along the wet concrete in deathly high heels and dramatic eye makeup, Hank was at Charles’s side in a leather jacket and dark jeans, and Charles walked proudly in the middle wearing a tight blue shirt and eyeliner, cheekbones dusted in glitter.

“Charles, you know I can nearly see your nipples through that shirt?” Raven said sweetly.

“Oh good, that’s what I was going for.” Charles grinned back. “I don’t do half-arsed.”

Hank snorted, and Charles caught him looking at Raven out of the corner of his eye. He seemed a little awe-struck by her figure-hugging red dress.

“Are we going G A Y first or are we going S T R I… A I…” While Charles struggled to remember how to spell the word ‘straight’ on a pint of 1664 and two tequila shots, Raven guided them down the next street and they found themselves at the end of a very long queue.

“Does that answer your question?” She asked, pointing to the glowing pink neon sign above the entrance to the club. Charles’s smiled only grew wider.

“I’m home,” he said happily.

* * *

Erik really should have expected this. He tucked his phone back into his pocket and downed his third shot in an hour. He’d struggled into his extra tight jeans and everything; trust Emma to cancel at the last minute. He strongly suspected that the paper Emma had due was absolutely not as important as she had made it sound.

Erik leant against the bar, giving up on drinking and deciding to head out onto the floor. The DJ was good, Erik felt the bass thud in the pit of his stomach and grinned; Emma didn’t know what she was missing. He almost wanted to take a picture of the copious shirtless men and sent it to her as evidence.

He danced for a bit, feeling strangely out of sync and alone, despite the many men that latched onto him, pressed muscled chests against him and began to grind their hips. Erik detached himself from a blond with sharp green eyes and made his way back to the bar, ordering vodka on the rocks and running a hand through his sweaty hair. He felt uneasy, distracted. Any other night he would easily have taken on the first attractive man to speak to him, so why did he find it so difficult to focus?

“You look like you need another drink.”

Erik turned his head. The man had slicked-back hair and a wide, dangerous smile. There was something odd about the way he held himself.

“Are you offering?” Erik asked with a smile.

* * *

“What time is it?” Charles asked, cigarette dangling from between his lips as he rummaged in his pockets. Hank offered him a light and Charles winked at him.

“Ten to,” Raven told him, leaning against the wall.

“Is it free entry before eleven or half past?” Hank asked, taking back his lighter.

“Eleven.” Charles replied dejectedly.

“We’ll make it,” Raven said optimistically.

“Maybe you could show off a bit more cleavage?” Charles offered, ducking the swipe Raven made at his head.

“Have you forgotten we’re at a gay club, genius?”

“There’s quite a good looking girl checking ID on the door,” Charles pointed out. Raven sighed.

They made it in with one minute to spare, heading straight for the bar and in true student style, buying the cheapest and strongest drinks they could before joining the mass of bodies in the centre of the club.

“Give me an hour,” Charles was shouting into Raven’s ear, “if I’ve not pulled by then, I’ll meet you by the bar.” Raven just laughed and pushed Charles into the throng of people.

Charles’s strategy was partly a ruse to get Hank and Raven to spend more time together, and partly to take his mind off of a certain professor that he’d been thinking about far too much lately.

He didn’t make it far however, before a hand grabbed his waist and he found himself between two very hot men, caught in the centre of the dance floor.

* * *

Erik was alone, again. He’d spent a pleasant ten minutes chatting to ‘Azazel’, who had bought him a drink and tried very hard to take him home, only to be caught out by his very large and very imposing boyfriend a few moments later. Erik sighed, checked his phone and resisted the urge to get even more drunk than he was already. Perhaps it was time to call it a night.

He was just about to check out his jacket when something caught his eye. It was that first year, the one studying science or something; Erik had often seen him around the campus, though he couldn’t remember why the boy had garnered his attention before. He was dancing with a pretty girl in a red dress. She looked somehow familiar; something about her eyes.

It came to him then. Erik stopped walking, pushed his way further into the crowd, further towards the couple. Somewhere in the back of his mind he reasoned that just because Charles’s friend was here, that didn’t mean that Charles was too. Erik scanned the sea of heads, trying to pick out Charles from the throng of movement.

* * *

**23:37pm – ERIK IS HERE.**

Charles smiled up at the tall, dark haired man, letting his hands rest on the man’s hips, pulling them closer. His mobile buzzed, but Charles ignored it, too busy enjoying the pleasing amount of shirtlessness going on around him.

**23:38pm – Fucking hell Charles SUPER HOT PROFESSOR MAN IS WITHIN CLOSE PROXIMITY.**

Charles was drunk. He was not drunk enough, however, to ignore the incessant vibrations of his phone in his pocket more than once. He snuck a look, and almost dropped his phone.

23:40pm – WHERE?!

He stopped dancing, looked up, looked around him, but he was too short and too inebriated to even focus on people’s faces. His phone started ringing.

“Where the hell are you?” Raven shouted.

“I don’t know!”

“Shit. Shit I think he’s seen you. Play it cool.”

“Play it cool?!” Charles squeaked, but Raven had already hung up. He tried to focus on dancing, tucking his phone into his pocket.

* * *

He was there; sandwiched between two men, laughing and dancing and so _so_ young. Erik stared. People around him started to look his way, the metal on their clothing pulling slightly in Erik’s direction, as though he were magnetised. He hesitated, one step towards Charles, taking another back, lingering on the edge of the dance floor, desperate to touch but terrified of even looking.

Erik couldn’t take his eyes off him. The way that shirt clung to him; the beauty of his red mouth and sparkling blue eyes. He had suspected it before, but this time he knew he was really in trouble.


	6. Chapter 6

Erik watched breathlessly as a man approached Charles, grabbing him around the waist. Charles pushed back into the man’s embrace, guiding his hands onto his hips and grinding against him. Erik's chest tightened painfully, a sharp, primal voice at the back of his mind growling _mine._

Before Erik could think, hazy with alcohol, he was striding towards the couple. Charles looked up as Erik approached, he didn't seem as surprised as Erik expected. The realisation that Charles had known that Erik was watching him drove Erik crazy.

"Charles," Erik managed, teeth gritted. Charles only stared as Erik pushed the other man aside and got between the two of them, taking his place. His hands settled on Charles' hips, squeezing. It felt so good, so right to touch him. Charles looked up at him and Erik slid his arms around Charles’s waist, pulling him closer.

"Hi," Charles said. Erik’s hand was on the back of Charles’s neck, in his hair, and then he was dragging him into a kiss. It was an incredible kiss, the kind of kiss you saw in films and Charles pressed eagerly into him; Erik ran his hands over Charles’s hips and grabbed his arse firmly. Charles’s leg was suddenly between Erik’s legs and Erik gave a breathless groan, almost forgetting where they were.

 _I knew you wanted me._  Charles' voice was calm and clear in Erik's head, although his mouth was pressed firmly against Erik's and his tongue was running teasingly along Erik's lower lip. The bass thudded in their chests as they clutched at one another desperately.  

They parted, Erik's fingers were tangled in Charles' thick hair and he was panting slightly. He was staring at Charles with panic creeping into his eyes. His hand on Charles' hip tightened and then released him.

"What is it?" Charles asked, catching Erik's shirtsleeve. "What?"

"Fuck." Erik said under his breath. "I can't, Charles. Shit. Fuck it." Erik was stepping away from him, horrified with himself.

Charles stepped towards him. "Stop it," he said. "Don't do that, don't."

Erik was taking more steps backwards, turning away from him and heading towards the door.

"Erik!" Charles shouted above the music, but his professor was lost in the crowd.


	7. Chapter 7

“This is becoming a regular thing for us, isn’t it?” Charles said tiredly.

“What is?” Raven murmured.

“Discussing my failings over hot chocolate.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Raven said with a smile, “this time we have flapjack.”

Charles slid further down into his armchair.

“I’m fucked, aren’t I?” He said after a moment.

“Thoroughly.”

Charles made a face and closed his eyes. A moment later he heard Raven get up, and then she was smothering him with a tissue. 

“Don’t you ever wash?” Raven asked, rubbing vigorously at the glitter Charles knew had somehow become absorbed into his skin.

“Not on Sundays.” He replied.

“You’re an animal.” Raven scoffed, then, “Speaking of which, you should have seen the way Lehnsherr was staring at you last night.”

Charles sat up. “Fuck, you need to tell me exactly how bad it looked.”

“As it happens, I think acting like you were trying to shag every bloke in sight actually worked in your favour, considering how quickly you seemed to be making out with Professor Sex.” Raven mused, taking a sip of her drink. Charles looked up.

“Kill me." He said in a pleading voice.

“The look on his face when that guy started dancing with you; it was like watching a wild animal on the discovery channel.”

Charles buried his face in his hands. “He’s so hot,” he whined softly. Raven rolled her eyes.

“OK, I’m not going to lie; if he was straight I would be on that like butter on hot crumpets.” Raven said matter-of-factly. Charles laughed. “But he’s not. He’s gay as a rainbow and clearly has an enormous hard on for you, my darling big brother.” She continued. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I seem to remember you telling me absolutely, categorically _not_ to do anything about it!” Charles blurted.

“Yes but now you've snogged him. And also, that was before I saw him looking at you like he was a lion and you were a fucking baby antelope.” Raven said sharply.

There was a brief silence. “That’s a lot of metaphors to handle this early in the morning.” Charles said.

* * *

Monday morning found Charles leaning against a brick wall, crammed into the space between the exterior of the lecture theatre and the dustbins. He rolled a cigarette, focusing all his attention on the curl of the paper and nothing else. He had ten minutes.

It might not seem like much, but to Charles, those ten minutes separated him from the nightmare of trying to look at his lecturer and not picture him in sinfully tight trousers and an open shirt, making a beeline for Charles, looking like he was about to either fuck him or murder him. Possibly both. Even alone, cowering by the bins, it took an effort of will. His mobile buzzed.

**8:52am – Courage.**

Charles smirked and lit his cigarette. He looked up at the sound of scuffling, hands still cupped around his lighter as somebody ducked into the tiny alleyway beside him.

Erik sighed and turned around. “Fuck.” He said emphatically when he saw Charles.

Charles blinked at him. Erik tipped his head back against the wall and fished in his pocket, taking out a straight and patting his jacket searchingly. He looked at Charles.

“May I?” He asked, gesturing to the lighter. Charles nodded mutely and briefly contemplated lighting his professor’s cigarette for him, but in the end simply passed the lighter to him with a smile. Erik took it, paused in the act of giving it back to scrutinise the bright rainbow pattern on it, and raised an eyebrow.

 _Didn’t think you’d exactly have a problem flying the flag._ Charles projected bitterly as he took a drag.

“I suppose you keep a nice, uncontroversially decorated lighter to lend to all your straight friends then?” Erik said aloud.

“No, I make them use the one shaped like a cock.” Charles replied. Erik snorted, shooting Charles a quick, amused glance.

“Quite right too,” he added.

Charles flicked ash from the end of his cigarette and studied Erik’s profile longingly.

“So Saturday,” Erik began, surprising them both. “That was... ill advised.” Charles frantically tried to figure out a way to say no, without sounding like a bit of a slut.

“You weren't thinking that when I had my tongue in your mouth." _Well done_ , Charles thought to himself.

Erik looked at him; he seemed fixated on the movement of Charles’s throat as he swallowed. “You're not going to make this any easier, are you?” He asked.

“No.” Charles replied simply. Erik didn’t say anything else, at least, not aloud. He flicked away the rest of his cigarette and turned to leave. 

_I know you're lying._ Charles projected angrily.

"Stay out of my head, Charles." Erik bit back. Charles threw Erik's own fantasies at him, dredged up from the back of his mind. Images of Charles's mouth wrapped around his cock, his own face flushed and panting, Charles on his hands and knees, Erik fucking him roughly from behind.

Erik stiffened, back rigid. "Charles." He growled.

 _You're lying._ Charles repeated.

 _Yes._ Erik thought. This time, Charles didn't try to stop him when Erik walked away.

* * *

“Just a yes?” Raven asked that evening, already back at home and already too far away.

“That’s all I heard. I mean it’s possible he was also thinking about ripping my clothes off and taking me next to the bins, but his telepathic technique is lacking.” On the other end of the line he heard Raven stifle a giggle.

“By the sounds of it, that was on his mind already.” She answered eventually.

“You think?” Charles asked seriously.

“Charles, the man may as well have handed you an invitation to the party in his boxers. The two of you have more sexual tension than you can shake a stick at.” Now it was Charles’s turn to laugh.

“Speaking of which,”

“Oh no, that sounds like a segue into a conversation I don’t want to have.” Raven groaned.

“How did you and Hank get on then?” Charles urged, lying on his bed and staring up at the suspicious yellow stain on his bedroom ceiling. The silence was filled with the sound of Raven face-planting her own pillow.

“We’re going out for a drink Friday night.” She mumbled.

“That’s great!” Charles cried. Raven sighed.

“Please don’t make a big deal out of this. It’s just a drink.” But Charles could hear the delight she was trying to hide. He grinned.

“Fine,” he said.

* * *

Hank had probably been sitting at his desk working, judging by the textbooks and open laptop, but had got up to open the door to Charles. That was a big mistake. Charles tackled him the second he saw Hank’s face.

“I knew it!” He cried. “I knew it!”

Hank was making some kind of helpless choking noise beneath him, so Charles got off of his chest and instead started to pummel his shoulder, all the while laughing at Hank’s growing embarrassment.

“I knew you liked her!” Charles prodded, finally letting Hank sit up. Hank regarded him warily.

“You’re not upset?” He asked tentatively. “I am going on a date with your sister.” Charles just grinned at him, adjusting Hank’s glasses for him.

“Why would I be? She can make her own decisions. I’m not going to give you the big brother talk either, because we both know that if you hurt her, she _will_ kill you.”

“She’s very capable.” Hank said with a kind of stunned yet reverent nod.

* * *

Emma looked stunning as usual. Today she was wearing a simple cream coloured blouse and a diamond pendant. She was, however, somewhat out of place in Erik’s messy flat, curled up on his leather sofa with a plate of Chinese takeaway on her lap.

“You act like I ruined your evening,” she was saying, “but I bet the moment I cancelled you were off chasing the first man that showed up. It’s like keeping a tight rein on a puppy with you sometimes.” Erik ignored the slight and filled his mouth with rice to avoid talking.

“It wasn’t a terrible evening.” He said mildly.

Emma looked at him but didn’t answer. They watched the TV for a moment, something on the news about another scandal involving one of the lesser known politicians.

“You’ve been acting quite strange lately.” Emma said thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off the television. Erik just grunted. She let it drop. At least, until they were standing in Erik’s small kitchen, clearing plates and throwing away the small plastic containers from dinner.

“I don’t mean to pry,” Emma began. Erik sighed loudly but did nothing to curtail the conversation. “I just wondered if there was something you wanted to talk about.” Emma continued. “Anything.”

Erik stuck his hands in the bowl of soapy water and tried to focus on washing up the plates. “I’m OK.”

“I’m not convinced.” Emma said. Erik shook his head, gesturing with his hand and sending their cutlery floating into the washing up bowl. Emma was one of the few people Erik trusted enough to use his mutation in her presence. Emma wasn’t exactly normal herself.

“Alright,” he said, turning to her. “I have a slight problem.”

It took no time at all to explain his predicament, but the time it took to calm Emma down was substantially greater, and involved a lot more physical abuse.

“A _student,_ Erik?!” Emma screeched, whipping him with a tea towel, skin glittering in her diamond form.

“I know!” Erik said for the thousandth time, hands up in surrender. Emma was at the other end of the kitchen now, glaring at him. “Please calm down,” Erik pleaded, “I haven’t done anything about it. Well, anything else.”

Emma sighed, crystalline sheen finally receding. “OK,” she said.

Erik leant against the counter dejectedly. Emma looked at him with pity. “Oh Erik, you’ve got it bad, haven’t you?” Erik just shook his head and turned back to the washing up.

Emma approached him and leant her head on his shoulder. “What’s his name?” She said softly.

“Are you going to start following him down dark alleyways and rooting through his bins?” Erik laughed.

“Only if you drive me to it.”

* * *

Later that evening, after Emma had said goodbye and given him another friendly punch as a warning, Erik flopped down on his sofa and turned on the telly. There was nothing particularly interesting on, and soon Erik was thinking about the other day, the way that Charles had seemed so attainable, perfect and so close that it seemed as though Erik really could have him. Was it so wrong to want him? Erik rubbed his eyes and glanced over at the pile of essays waiting to be marked. Somewhere in that pile lay Charles’s work from the other week. There was the reason why it was wrong. Erik wished he could carry the essay with him, complete with his own name on the first page following the title of ‘professor’. He could not let himself forget the rift between them, even for a second.


	8. Chapter 8

Charles hated the library as a rule, but on that Wednesday evening it was a veritable sanctuary. He was sitting at one of the many rows of computers on the second floor, looking out at the street below through the glass wall. He imagined how warm the library must look from the outside, with him occupying a tiny space in the far corner, tapping religiously away on the keyboard with a book open on his lap.

It was 11pm but it felt far later. Charles rubbed his eyes, stinging from concentrating too long on the computer screen. It felt like he was the only person left in the library, and the creeping regret of leaving the essay to the last minute was finally catching up to him. He glared exhaustedly at the growing pile of books beside the monitor, and decided to allow himself a short break. Charles stretched out his back, picking up a stack of books he'd already worked his way through.

He crossed the large room to the bookshelves, entering the tall stacks like a forest. The sound of the opening door that led to the staircase usually wouldn't have garnered any attention, but since he had thought he was alone, Charles turned in surprise and almost dropped the books he was carrying. He turned his back quickly, focusing on not drawing any attention to himself.

Erik was striding towards the poetry section, wearing a dark coat that was wet on the shoulders. Charles hadn't noticed that it was raining.

_C...c...c....Cummings_

Charles blinked.

_E.E. Cummings, poets A-G, yes._

Erik seemed focused, and Charles peered between the stacks of books and listened to the thoughts swarming like bees in Erik's head. As Erik descended on the row of E.E. Cummings collections, Charles leant against the bookcase and let the lines of poetry drift over him as Erik scanned the pages silently.

_(i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses), my heart fell dead before, (sleep wake hope and then), your slightest look easily will unclose me._

Thud.

Charles jumped back from the bookcase, staring guiltily at the book he'd knocked onto the floor on the opposite side of the shelf. Erik looked up. Charles stepped out from the bookcase and gave him an uncertain smile.

"Oh," Erik said. _Want, embarrassment, fear, need._

"Hi," Charles said softly.

"What are you doing here?" Erik asked, replacing the book he was holding and walking towards Charles.

"Essay," Charles said dumbly. "I was putting some books back."

"Little late to be writing an essay, isn't it?" Erik smiled, taking a couple of books from the top of Charles' pile and helping to re-shelve them.

"Well," Charles replied, "I've counted, and I have about twelve hours left until the hand in date and I'm actually screwed, so I figured I had plenty of time for at least two drafts."

Erik just smiled and shook his head, placing a book back on the shelf just above Charles's head.

"You should plan ahead," Erik said, pausing to look down at Charles.

"That's never really done me any good before," Charles said quietly. Erik stopped, frozen in place with his face inches from Charles'.

"No," he said at last, and Charles pulled him in and kissed him.

* * *

Erik's coat was damp under Charles's hands as Erik backed them up against the bookcase. He tasted of mint chewing gum and Charles groaned softly as Erik's tongue traced the seam of his lips gently. Erik's hands were on his hips, sliding beneath Charles's jumper, warm against his bare skin. He'd worn the same itchy jumper as the first day they had met, and Erik had moved to his neck and was pressing his lips against the red rash around Charles's throat.

Charles clutched at his arms, lost in Erik's memory of how Charles had looked on that first day, tired and clearly hungover, skin porcelain white everywhere except his throat and the blush in his cheeks. It was strange to see himself through another person's perspective, and Charles was staggered by the flood of want triggered in Erik by the blue of his eyes and the flush on his neck.

Charles's fingers curled around the nape of Erik's neck; his hair was wet. Erik gripped his waist, fumbling with Charles's belt.

_This cannot be happening._ Charles thought. _This is not seriously happening._

Erik was kissing him again, hungry and wet, unbuttoning Charles's jeans. As Erik slipped his hand inside Charles's boxers and closed around his cock, Charles let out a choked cry that Erik smothered with his lips.

_Beautiful..._ Erik was thinking. _Perfect... so eager..._

Charles clawed at Erik's shoulders and arched into him, his body bowing to Erik's like a tree in a storm. Erik was moaning, soft and low.

"What are you doing to me?" He whispered, and Charles came suddenly, a high pitched whine escaping  the back of his throat. Erik kissed him into silence again, tucking him away and buttoning Charles's jeans with one hand.

"That was stupid." Erik said breathlessly, after a moment had passed. Charles's heart sank again.

"Yeah," he said.

"Come home with me."

Charles looked up; Erik was staring at him intently.

Charles swallowed thickly. "Alright."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, these chapters are getting so inconsistent in length now! Also apologies for the late update, life is hectic at the moment.


	9. Chapter 9

"Marry me." Charles said the moment Erik brought him into his flat. Erik laughed, throwing his coat down on the sofa and wandering over to Charles, who was staring in rapture at the bookcases that lined every wall in Erik's tiny flat.

"One thing at a time," Erik said with a smile, bringing Charles into a kiss.

"Oh yeah," Charles said, and then they were staggering towards Erik's bedroom.

Erik's room was probably very well decorated and very tasteful, but this time Charles noticed nothing apart from the softness of Erik's duvet cover as Erik guided him to the bed and crawled over him, pushing Charles's jacket from his shoulders.

Charles tried to hide his shiver as Erik flicked the door closed by the metal doorknob with a wave of his hand.

"How many people know you can do that?" Charles asked breathlessly, unsure why his brain had decided that now was the perfect time to ask Erik a question.

"Including you? Three, maybe four."

"Oh," Charles  said, and then they went back to kissing.

"What about yours?" Erik murmured a moment later, fiddling with the buttons on Charles's shirt.

"Not many," Charles whispered, pulling Erik closer by his belt buckle.

"Good little secret keeper, aren't you?" Erik said, and Charles couldn't think of a single thing to say to that, so he dragged Erik down into another kiss.

* * *

"You have a nice place," Charles mused. Erik flicked dark eyes up to stare incredulously at him, lips a centimetre from Charles's cock. "Sorry."

Erik moved his hand and wordlessly covered Charles's mouth, licking teasingly along his length. Charles moaned softly, lips slack against Erik's hand.

_You talk too much._ Erik projected. He wasn't sure if Charles had picked up on it, but he didn't try to speak again unless it was to say Erik's name in various delicious ways, and so Erik was satisfied.

* * *

"Fuck!" Charles swore, sitting bolt upright in Erik's bed the next morning.

"What?" Erik mumbled, face pressed into the pillow. He wasn't particularly pleased that Charles had moved and dislodged his arm from across his chest.

"I left my memory stick in the library." Charles said with a groan.

Erik cracked a eye open. Charles had a purpling bruise on his collarbone and Erik felt very pleased with himself.

"Lie down." Erik sighed, wrapping his arm around Charles's waist and pulling him back into bed.

Charles turned his head to look at Erik and smiled slowly. "You know it's an essay for your class, right?"

Erik looked at him, considering. "I'm sure your tutor won't mind." He replied. "Maybe he'll even give you an extension if you ask nicely."

Charles grinned. "And what would I have to do for this generous extension for this essay?"

Erik smiled back, kissing absentmindedly at Charles's shoulder. "I can think of a few things." He murmured.

* * *

In the end they didn't get up until around twelve. Erik had initially roused himself to go and make tea and Charles had followed him into the kitchen a few moments later, wearing Erik's jumper, boxers and socks. Erik was loath to admit it was an endearing combination. Charles was studying the rows of books on Erik's shelves, barely even breaking his trance when Erik pressed a cup of tea into his hands.

"Roughly what percentage of your literature is in German?" Charles asked, plucking a book from the shelf and leafing through it.

"I'd say it's around thirty. I like reading German, it's comforting to me." Charles looked up at him and Erik smiled. "You like scrambled eggs?"

* * *

Charles let himself into the flat later that day, the smile still fixed on his face from when Erik had kissed him goodbye. He bumped into Hank in the kitchen.

"What's with the face?" Hank laughed, stirring some pasta in a saucepan.

"What face?" Charles replied innocently.

"The 'I just had sex' face, Charles."

Charles could feel his cheeks heating. "I don't kiss and tell."

"You do in my experience." Hank pointed out.

"Thanks very much."

"Welcome. So who is it?"

Charles wandered over to his cupboard and rummaged around for something to eat that was either in a packet or easily-microwavable.

"Just this guy from one of my lectures." Charles answered finally, head buried between a box of risotto rice and a small pot of mixed herbs.

"He hot?"

Charles resurfaced. "So hot." He said emphatically.

"I'm happy for you then." Hank said with a smile. "Don't fuck it up."

Charles began to protest but Hank sighed.

"You know what I mean, Charles. It might actually do you good to have a proper relationship, not just casual sex."

"Thank you, Mum." Charles spluttered. "Since when did you get so big on the relationship advice anyway?"

Hank just shrugged. "I'm just doing my best to help you avoid disaster."

"Have you been talking about me with my sister?" Charles asked suspiciously. Hank didn't answer. "Oh great, she's asked you to spy on me, hasn't she?"

"Not in those words but..."

"Fantastic." Charles grabbed a packet of crisps. "I'm going to my room."

"Make sure you do your homework," Hank called after him. Charles gave him the finger.

* * *

"Raven,"

"It wasn't me."

"I haven't said anything yet."

"Right."

"Did you ask Hank to keep an eye on me?"

"It wasn't me."

" _Raven._ I don't need babysitting! For God's sake I'm practically an adult. I do my own washing, I cook my own food, I go _food shopping,_ Raven. This week I bought broccoli _and_ washing powder, I'm a great adult!"

"I'm sensing some anger here." Raven said.

"It's almost like you're psychic."

"I have my moments. So who is this hottie you've been seeing then?"

"He's already reported back? My God, Hank is whipped." Charles marvelled.

"I keep a tight reign. Go on then."

"The boy is doomed."

"Charles."

"Well my dear sister," Charles said, settling back on his bed. "Have I got a story for you."

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

"Four times?"

Charles grinned stupidly into the phone. "Yeah."

"Wow."

"I know."

"Well forget what I've ever said about old men. Erik clearly has stamina."

"Raven he's not old!" Charles protested.

"How old is he?"

Charles sat up. He'd been lying on his bed playing with a Rubik's cube. "I don't actually know." He said. "Not old, anyway."

"Whatever you say. What's his place like?"

"Raven, it's amazing. He has all these books in German and he drinks _good_ coffee and he owns a record player. He's so intelligent and handsome, I just... when we were lying there, he was looking at me, just looking, and I think... Oh God, Raven, no one's ever looked at me like that before." Charles looked out of his window at the brick wall opposite him and at the sunlight and the trees around the corner. He thought about how he had reached out for a second and touched on Erik's thoughts, but couldn't find anything concrete, just a mess of emotion and sensation and feeling that he couldn't make sense of.

"Charles," Raven's voice broke him out of his trance. "What are you thinking about?"

Charles smiled to himself. "Nothing." He said quietly.

* * *

Erik wasn't proud of himself. When he returned to his flat after dropping Charles off, Erik went to his room and stood in the doorway, staring at the bed. OK, he was a little proud of himself.

He sighed and got to work stripping the bed.

For the rest of the day, Erik shut himself in his study and marked essays. At around half six he stood up, stretched, and wandered into his kitchen. He opened his fridge; good lord he really needed to go food shopping. All he had was a jar of pesto, pineapple juice and a small cube of expired cheese.

"Right." He said.

Charles didn't pick up right away. Erik wondered briefly if Charles had given him the right number, but then Charles answered the phone.

"Hey,"

"Hi."

"What's up?" Charles asked.

"I was just wondering if you wanted to grab some dinner with me, tonight, if you want." Erik said. He sounded nervous, why did he sound so nervous?

"Yeah, that would be really nice," Charles answered. Erik could hear the smile in his voice. "What time?"

"Um, now?"

* * *

"Oh my god oh my god, Hank, what do you wear on a first date when you've already shagged the person in question?" Charles shrieked from his room. Down the hall, Hank stuck his head around his bedroom door and studied Charles's outfit.

"Tighter trousers." He told him.

"Got it."

Charles studied himself in his tiny bathroom mirror. Good.

* * *

Erik stared up at the grey block of student flats that had been dubbed Leister Halls. He shrank out of sight when he heard the beep of a key card unlocking the main door. Charles wandered out, frowning at his phone. Erik waved a hand. Charles grinned, joining him beside the bushes.

"Very stealthy." Charles commented.

"I thought it best to take precautions." Erik supplied, and then he smiled. "You look fantastic."

"Not so bad yourself," Charles grinned as they began walking.

They caught the tube into central London, touching hands and arms and shoulders as though they were still afraid of somebody seeing. Erik caught Charles staring at their fingers brushing as they held onto the same pole when the train pulled into the station. When they stepped onto the platform, Erik took Charles's hand and didn't let go. In the mass of people, nobody noticed or cared whether Erik wanted to hold Charles's hand, but to them it was exciting and daring. They followed the crowd out of the station and into the cold night air.

The restaurant was nice, Erik hoped that Charles liked it. The waitress gave them a table by the window. Something in Erik still froze up at the idea of people walking by and seeing the two of them together; being with Charles felt so natural, like breathing. The knowledge that it was deemed wrong hurt him deeply, made him feel ashamed. Tonight was different though. Tonight they were just two ordinary people on a date, a first date. Erik looked at Charles and felt a rush of warmth, like sunlight inside his head.

"That's you, isn't it?" Erik asked as they sat down. Charles shrugged sheepishly.

"You weren't meant to feel that." He answered.

"What do you mean?"

"Um, it's called projection. At least, that's what I call it. It's when I project my thoughts onto other people." Charles explained. "You don't mind, do you? I do it with Raven sometimes. It's a quick way to communicate. Kind of like mental texting."

"Huh," Erik replied, "clever."

The waitress handed them menus and Charles hid behind his.

"Tell me about Raven." Erik said. Charles raised his head. Erik knew this was the right topic of conversation; Charles was already smiling.

"Oh, alright."

* * *

"-and then she jumps up and punches the guy full in the face!"

Erik threw back his head in laughter. "How old was she?" He gasped after a moment.

"Um, about nine?"

"I have to meet her," Erik said.

"Oh, I mean yeah, yeah you should." Charles grinned.

"If that's OK?"

"No of course it is! That would be... yeah. You'll get on well."

"Maybe not just yet." Erik added with a smile. He squeezed Charles's hand where it rested on the table. Erik felt the same flood of warmth and happiness as before, and he had to look away for a moment. Sometimes looking at Charles was like staring into the sun.

"What about you? Your family?" Charles asked. Erik averted his gaze again.

"Uh, no parents, no brothers or sisters. Not many friends, either." He looked up; Charles was studying him. "Sounds kind of sad when I say it out loud." Erik said.

Charles smiled at him again, breaking the tension. "I'll share Raven with you if you like. God knows there's plenty of her destructive force to go around."

"I'll tell her that if I meet her." Erik replied.

" _When_ you meet her." Charles corrected firmly. "I've been meaning to ask, that woman in the lecture theatre on the first day; is she a friend of yours? Only I saw her talk to you afterwards. You seemed close." Erik didn't need to read minds to be able to detect the hot prickle of jealousy.

"We're just friends," he supplied. "Actually, the two of you have something in common."

"Oh really?" Charles asked, sipping his wine.

"She is... what do they call it? Gifted? Like us, anyway. More like you than me; she can read minds."

"Really?" Charles was leaning forwards in his chair. Erik nodded. "That's... that's amazing. Truly. If I could meet her..."

"I'll tell her." Erik grinned. "Although, she wasn't too pleased when I told her about you. About you and I."

Charles almost choked on his pasta. "You told someone about me?"

"Not just someone," Erik said defensively, "a friend. She didn't take it particularly well, however."

"Oh really?" Charles grinned.

"I still have the scars." Erik told him, only half-lying. "Besides, I'm sure you've told your sister."

"Yeah," Charles laughed. "She had rather different ideas to your friend when I told her."

"And they were?"

Charles gave him a look in reply and Erik laughed. "Right."

* * *

They walked back to the tube clinging to one another, drunk on both the wine and each other's company.

"Look, I'm sorry we're doing this all in the wrong order." Erik said into the comfortable silence.

"Erik, who cares? Christ, this is the most romantic thing I've done in a long time." Charles protested.  

Erik looked at him. "Me too." He answered. "Speaking of Christ, I should probably tell you that I'm also Jewish."

Charles stared up at him. "There's just no end to your secrets, is there?"

They were carried into the underground station by a wave of people and came to the two sets of barriers, the tide of bodies crashing and rushing around them.

"I'm on the Jubilee Line." Erik said.

"Central." Charles replied. They shared a look.

"Can I-"

"Would you-"

They laughed at one another. "Come back to mine?" Charles said hopefully. Erik just nodded, smiling widely.

They hurried to the right platform and crammed themselves into a carriage with a hundred other people, breathless and hot and pressed up against each other. When they pulled into the right station and were pushed from the cramped train, Charles took Erik's hand. They walked back to Charles's flat leisurely, the night sky struggling to produce a few precious stars through the polluted London air. The outside light flicked on when they arrived, but Erik pulled Charles back and pressed him into the wall outside the building, kissing him. Charles pulled Erik deeper into the kiss; Erik was wearing the same coat he had been on that day in the library, and beneath the fabric Charles could feel Erik's heart beating fast.

"Let's go inside," Charles breathed. Erik nodded.

They hurried past the security guard before he could look up from the TV show playing on the monitor in front of him, taking the stairs up to the flat two at a time. Charles fumbled with the key and they fell into the room, Erik's hands already on him.

"Your bed is tiny," Erik panted as they tumbled onto the tired mattress, the springs creaking beneath them.

"Student housing." Charles muttered by way of explanation, tugging Erik's shirt from his shoulders and crawling on top of him.

"Wait," Erik sat up. Charles was about to ask him what he was doing when Erik raised his hand and he heard the click of the lock.

"Good thinking." Charles congratulated him, kissing him deeply. Erik rolled them over, shirtless now and looking down at Charles with predatory hunger, like a big cat staring down at its prey. It was the same look he'd given Charles in the club that night.

"You look at me like you're going to eat me alive." Charles told him in between kisses.

"Maybe I will." Erik whispered into his neck, catching the skin between his teeth.

Charles moaned loudly and involuntarily, thrusting needily against Erik's hand that had slipped between his thighs.

"Well," Erik said, pleasantly surprised. "This is going to be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late update, but I'm back in the swing of things now, so expect another chapter soon!


	11. Chapter 11

"Mmmpf." Charles grumbled, Erik's body sprawled across his, the morning sunlight glancing off bare skin.

"Jesus, do your curtains block out _any_ light?" Erik murmured beside him, one hand thrown across his face.

Charles cracked open an eye and winced. "Student." He reminded him again before burying his face in Erik's shoulder.

"Your accommodation sucks." Erik told him.

"Mmmpf." Charles agreed. He sat up, running a hand through his hair. Erik stared. "What?"

"Nothing." Erik said quickly, turning away to hide a smile. Charles shook his head, half-asleep.

"Coffee?"

"Coffee sounds amazing." Erik told him. Charles tried to get out of bed but Erik pulled him back. "One more  thing," he said, guiding Charles into a kiss that quickly became something more.

"Don't start something you're not going to finish!" Charles protested when Erik rolled them over.

"Who said I'm not going to finish it?" Erik grinned, placing another kiss over the mark on Charles's neck.

"I suppose I can stay for another ten minutes..." Charles babbled as Erik kissed his way down Charles's chest.

"Ten minutes," Erik said from under the sheet. "That's ambitious."

Charles picked up a book from his desk and hit Erik over the head with it.

* * *

Hank was already in the kitchen when Charles stumbled in a little later.

"Morning," Charles said cheerfully, taking two mugs from the draining board and filling the kettle.

"Hey," Hank replied. "Busy night?"

Charles tried not to look him in the eye. "Yeah."

"So did you have sex or get mauled by a lion?" Hank grinned.

"What?"

Hank gestured to Charles's chest, thighs and neck, which he was now realising were covered in bite marks and bruises.

"Fuck." Charles said weakly.

"Oh, and who's Erik?" Hank asked.

"Uh..."

"You know, 'Erik, oh Erik, yes, yes, there, oh Erik!'" Hank imitated. Charles buried his face in his cupboard.

"You heard that then?"

"Charles, I think the whole building heard you."

"Sorry," Charles said, desperately trying to hide his smile behind a jar of coffee.

"I'm used to it." Hank said pointedly. "It's serious then?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, usually your sexual conquests are gone long before I get out of bed, and this morning you're making coffee for two."

"Oh," Charles said. He looked down at the two mugs. "I don't know. It might be."

"Good." Hank said, leaving with a bowl of cereal and a wink.

* * *

When Charles walked back into his room, Erik was lying on top of the covers and reading Charles's copy of 'The Canterbury Tales'.

"You have terrible handwriting." Erik told him. "It's a blessing that all of your essays have to be typed."

"Thanks very much." Charles replied tersely.

"I especially like what you've written here; 'Chaucer was a lunatic, is this even English'." Erik smirked.

"I struggle with Middle English." Charles supplied, handing Erik his coffee. Erik thanked him and Charles sat beside him on the bed, watching Erik's throat when he swallowed. "It's not the best coffee ever." He added.

"Surprising, since you work in a coffee shop." Erik said, jostling Charles's shoulder.

"Hey, I _like_ good coffee. I can _afford_ Nescafe instant." Charles replied.

"Touché." Erik said. "Mind if I have a shower?"

"Go ahead." Erik stood up. Charles watched the sheet fall away and stared unashamedly at Erik's retreating arse. He nodded to himself approvingly.

"Want to join me?" Erik asked, turning around. He raised an eyebrow when Charles tore his eyes away from his behind.

"I think you're seriously overestimating the size of my bathroom." Charles laughed.

"Can't hurt to try." Erik said thoughtfully.

"I'll let you know when I've got ten new bruises." Charles said, but was already following Erik into the tiny en suite bathroom.

* * *

"I have to go." Erik said for the tenth time, arms around Charles's waist.

"'OK." Charles replied, turning his head for a kiss.

"I really do." Erik said again.

"Get out the door." Charles grinned, untangling himself from Erik's arms and shoving him in the chest.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow." Erik said with a smile. It was a private, intimate smile. It was one that Charles had only ever seen directed at him.

"I guess you will, Professor."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me." He grunted.

Charles stuck his head out the door and checked that the hall was clear before Erik slipped past him. They waved goodbye at the door to Charles's flat.

"Wow," Hank said behind him. Charles turned suddenly. He didn't need to read minds to know that Hank had been standing there for long enough to see Erik leaving. "That looks like trouble."

"Hank," Charles started, but Hank cut him off.

"None of my business." Hank said, throwing his hands in the air and heading back into his room.

Charles stood there staring at the closed door, digging his toes into the carpet and rubbing the back of his neck.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one this time; sorry for the late update!


	12. Chapter 12

"I miss you,"

"I miss you too." Charles smiled into his phone. "I'll be back a whole month for Christmas, you know."

"I know, but I'm missing you now!" Raven whined.

"Me too. Hey, Erik's keen to meet you, you know." Charles ventured.

"Really? Charles, that's big. That's like... 'meeting the parents' big."

"It's logical."

"He doesn't seem like the logical type." Raven teased. "You two are emotionally compromised idiots."  

"Don't remind me."

"OK, I love you and everything but I have to go. Dad bought the wrong kind of peanut butter and Mum's about to commit second degree."

"Got you. Text me later."

"Bye."

"Bye." Charles hung up and shoved a copy of the 'Selected Poems of Sarah Kirsch' into his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He sent a silent prayer of thanks for the blessing that was his Monday schedule. Attending lectures at the much more respectable 2pm rather than 9am was a much appreciated bonus of university life once a week. Another much appreciated bonus was getting to stare at Erik's arse while he took them through the PowerPoint slides.

It was a predictably miserable day, with low, dark clouds and rain that sputtered and drizzled every now and again like a broken sprinkler. Charles checked again to make sure that he had his essay in his bag, and left the flat, heading towards the campus with his binder held over his head.

He filed into the lecture theatre with a group of other students, all of them dripping rainwater, trying to shake it off like dogs. Erik was bent over beside the podium in the far corner, fiddling with the cables for the microphone and treating Charles to a quite incredible sight. He noticed he wasn't the only one staring. He dipped briefly into Erik's thoughts.

_Enjoying the view?_

Charles stiffened, Erik's voice crystal clear in his head.

_You're getting good at that._

Erik straightened up and shot Charles a brief glance before returning to the podium.

_I'm good at lots of things._

Charles smirked to himself as he took a seat in the front row.

Erik began the lecture, covering a couple of new topics and reminding them of the essay that was due in that afternoon. It wasn't that Charles didn't find the lecture interesting, but he found his attention gravitating more towards the fitted shirt Erik was wearing, and away from the life and work of German poet Sarah Kirsch.

Charles caught Erik's eye and ran his finger over the bite mark on his neck thoughtfully. Erik quickly looked away and shuffled his notes distractedly.

_Don't be like that._ Charles said into his head.

Erik replied with a clear mental image of Charles bent over his desk.

_Tease._

Charles shifted in his seat, twirling his pen through his fingers absently.

"Sarah Kirsch was..." _want you later_ "...first and foremost..." _want you on your knees_ "...an artist of great..." _want to_ "taste you... uh." Erik stuttered. "An artist of great taste, you don't see that very often, nowadays."

Charles desperately tried to downplay his snort of laughter by smothering his mouth with his hand. Erik glared at him. "Anyway, I have a short video to play you of a reading of one of Kirsch's poems."

_That's what happens when you get too cocky._ Charles told him.

_Shut up._

Erik was dimming the lights in the lecture theatre and returning to his seat. Charles watched the light from the projector highlighting Erik's sharp cheekbones and jaw. He leaned forward, too busy studying Erik's face to notice that Erik's fingers were moving slightly where his hand rested on top of the desk. Charles bit his lip as he felt the zip of his jeans lowering. Erik glanced at him and smiled slowly. Charles placed his binder in his lap and tried helplessly to stop Erik from literally undressing him with his eyes.

_Behave._

_I don't know what you're talking about._

Charles pressed his lips together to stop the whimper that threatened to escape as Erik toyed with the metal zipper.

_This is an improper use of your abilities!_ Charles tried to sound pissed off.

_Says the person who uses his for telepathic sexting._

The video finished, and Charles hadn't heard a word of it. When the lecture ended, Charles packed his notes away as slowly as humanly possible. He waited until the last couple of students were filing out before standing awkwardly with his bag held in front of his crotch.

"Having some trouble there, are we?" Erik asked, strolling over. Charles wanted to punch him, or kiss him, or possibly both.

"Fuck you." Charles growled half-heartedly.

"Maybe later." Erik tried to walk away but Charles grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Take me somewhere. Now."

Erik stared back, heartbeat picking up. "My office. Five minutes. Don't follow me." He started walking towards the door. Charles swallowed thickly as he watched him leave. He stood in the lecture theatre breathlessly counting down four minutes, and then he hurried out of the building.

Erik was sitting in his chair when Charles walked in without knocking. his tie was gone and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. Charles shut the door and climbed hastily into Erik's lap, mouth searching for his as he fiddled with Erik's belt.

"You're an absolute bastard." Charles breathed in between gasping kisses. Erik barely managed to grunt in reply, already hard, his cock straining inside his trousers. Charles kissed him once more, sliding to his knees.

"Oh God." Erik moaned, bringing a hand to his mouth and biting his fist as Charles unzipped him.

* * *

At first, Erik didn't register that the hollow, staccato sound he heard had been a knock. It reminded him horribly of a teenage wet dream where a young Hugh Grant was sucking him off and he would wake up before he got to come. Charles's panicked expression only deepened the sense of doom.

"Under the desk," Erik hissed. "Quickly."

Charles ducked under Erik's desk and Erik pulled himself up to it so that his open trousers and erection were hidden. He punched at the keys of his computer desperately, trying to wake it up.

"Come in!" He called a little too brightly as the Google homepage appeared.

The Dean of the university strode into Erik's office and gave him a tight-lipped smile. Erik very nearly died.

"Professor Shaw," he said politely. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Beneath the table Erik felt Charles's fingernails dig into his calf in mute terror.

"Nothing too dire, Lehnsherr, I can assure you." Shaw replied in his slow, indulgent tone. Talking to him was very much like a small vole making conversation with the python that was about to eat it. It always left Erik with a sense of inexplicable dread.

"I'm holding a meeting with a few of the faculty members tomorrow afternoon, I trust you can make it?"

Charles's fear had apparently left him, because Erik felt soft lips closing over the tip of his cock and he slid forward just a little in his chair, half begging, half chastising Charles as Charles took Erik in his mouth.

"Absolutely." Erik told Shaw, one hand under the desk tangling in Charles's thick hair as he sucked him off. Erik was impressed by how even his voice sounded to his own ears as Charles's tongue traced a vein in his cock.

"What, uh, what time... is it?" Erik managed. Shaw gave him a strange look.

"Four." He said curtly.

"I'm coming." Erik told him, hips lifting involuntarily. "I'll come. I'll definitely be coming, tomorrow."

"Excellent." Shaw said. He lingered.

"Was there... anything else?" _Any second now, he's going to have to come up for air._ Erik thought to himself, practically shaking, perched on the edge of his chair so Charles could take him deeper.

"No." Shaw said eventually. Erik clenched his fist.

"Have a good day, Sebastian."

"Yes." Shaw replied distractedly. He shut the door behind him.

"Charles!" Erik gasped as Charles took him right down to the base. He came with a moan he muffled quickly with his hand. Charles resurfaced, wiping the corners of his mouth triumphantly.

"You're going to pay for that." Erik told him without conviction.

"God, I hope so." Charles grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and suggestions are always appreciated! Stay tuned next for Erik meeting Raven B)
> 
> (Edit: Due to me confusing myself with the timeline, Raven saying that she will see Charles for Easter has now been changed to Christmas. Because I'm terrible at planning fics and also Christmas somehow became a plot device OK enjoy!)


	13. Chapter 13

**TO:** e.lehnsherr85@hotmail.com

 **FROM:** s.shaw@unimail.ac.uk

 **FW:** c.xavier@unimail.ac.uk

 **SUBJECT:** Health Concerns

Mr Lehnsherr,

No doubt this email comes as no surprise to you, given your unusual and vexing behaviour during our meeting yesterday. I am writing to voice my concerns for your health. Your obvious discomfort, flushed appearance and difficulty holding an intelligible conversation yesterday afternoon is worrying. Please respond ASAP re: your availability for today's meeting and your capacity to return to work.

Yours,

S.Shaw

 

Erik answered the phone and listened silently for a few moments as Charles fell to pieces on the other end.

"Oh Christ, oh that is incredible. Oh my God. " Charles gasped between fits of laughter. "Please let me blow you in public more often."

"Yes, somehow I knew that you would appreciate my boss fearing for my life. You can almost detect how much he doesn't care for my wellbeing and more about the possible vacancy he can fill with someone more suitable for my position." Erik said dryly.

"I bet he'd get someone who doesn't shag his students too." Charles quipped.

"Well, that's no fun."

"Speaking of which..."

"I have a meeting to get to." Erik told him firmly. "It appears I also have to convince Shaw that I'm not turning rabid." There was a second of silence. "Charles, I can practically hear you pouting."

"That's scary."

"What do you want me to do? Fuck you on the floor in the middle of a meeting? Are you going to sit on my lap while the other tutors chat about the curriculum and exams?"

"Shh." Charles muttered.

"That actually turned you on, didn't it?" Erik grinned into the phone.

"Little bit."

"Did you get the key?"

"Yeah." Charles replied. He'd woken up that morning to a small envelope outside his door. Inside was a thin, silver key. He'd known immediately what it was.

"I hope you don't think it's...too much, or anything. I know we've only been... well, it's only been a few months."

"It's not." Charles said quickly. "Too much, I mean. I'll try not to let myself in and lie naked on your bed waiting for you like some kind of weird sexual predator."

"Pity." Erik replied.

* * *

It was dull meeting, filled endlessly with reminders about attending further meetings to discuss the things brought up in the previous meeting, to be deliberated over and dismissed during this meeting. Erik was sick to death of it. They'd congregated in one of the seminar rooms, crammed into rigid chairs with the little fold out desks attached. Shaw had collected a few of the more dedicated faculty members, who now sat staring dead-eyed at the graph he'd pulled up to illustrate their various failings. Beside Erik was a man he didn't recognise. The man was huge; hunched over the tiny fold out desk miserably, wide set shoulders obscuring the view of the tutors behind him like a plaid-covered mountain range. Erik side-eyed him curiously.

When the meeting finished, Erik accosted him outside the room.  

"Hey," he said, stopping the man in his tracks. "I'm Erik. Haven't seen you in one of Shaw's ball busting lectures before."

The man shook his hand. "I'm new, just teaching here for a couple of semesters."

"American?" Erik asked, noting the accent.

"Canadian." The man corrected. "Logan."

"Erik."

"Good to meet you."

Erik's mobile pinged. He fished it out of his pocket.

"I'll see you later." Logan said with a smirk as Erik grinned at his phone.

**4.43pm - What are you doing tomorrow? Raven's coming to visit.**

4.44pm - Nothing at all.

**4.44pm - How do you feel about a double date?**

4.45pm - As long as you put out.

**4.45pm - I'm swooning.**

* * *

“Want to see a trick?” Charles asked, lying in bed with his head in Erik’s lap early next morning. Erik smiled down at him, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Charles had in fact been waiting for him when he got home that evening, but he was cooking dinner. It had been a delicious dinner; rich, creamy fettuccine alfredo with warm garlic bread. They’d just about managed to clear the plates before Erik had Charles backed up against the cupboards. Erik couldn’t explain what was happening, Charles had such an intense and frightening hold over him. Their relationship was electric; it pulled at them both as though they were magnetised.

“What kind of trick?” Erik replied, fingers playing with Charles’s hair, smoke curling from between his lips. Charles touched his temple, eyes fixed on Erik. Erik leaned over him and put out his cigarette in the ashtray. He blinked, staring dumbly at the crumpled cigarette butt.

“That was unnerving.” He said eventually.

“You’re lucky I use my powers for good rather than evil.” Charles said evenly.

“I was enjoying that cigarette.”

“Your lungs weren’t.” Charles told him, taking another cigarette from the packet on Erik’s bed and lighting it. He took a drag and settled back against Erik’s chest.

“Your turn.”

Erik eyed the cigarette jealously before looking around the room. He selected a metal ball that sat in a cradle on the windowsill. Erik flicked his wrist and the ball rose from its stand and floated towards Charles, hovering inches from his face.

“That’s not a trick.” Charles said, slightly cross-eyed as he watched the ball spin centimetres from his nose. Erik beckoned the ball into his hand and it hovered in his palm. His fingers twitched slightly and the ball began to rotate. Soon it was spinning in the palm of his hand. Erik removed his hand and the ball stayed in place. He used his index finger to push the ball upwards, almost but not quite touching it, until it looked like the ball was spinning on the tip of his finger like a basket ball.

“Huh.” Charles murmured. “Cool.”

Charles’s mobile rang shrilly from somewhere across the room. They started, Erik clutching his heart in what he was aware was a very old-man gesture. Charles got out of bed and padded across the bedroom, rummaging through a pile of their clothing to get to the phone.

“Hey,” he said when he picked it up. “What’s up?”

Erik watched him from the bed. Charles said ‘yes, no, yes, of course’ and nodded a few times.

“Yeah that’s no problem. Look, I can’t be there for another half hour or so. No that’s fine, just put my name on the rota. Cool. No don’t worry, I’ll just cover. Unless you need the money? OK, see you in a bit. Bye.”

“What was that about?” Erik asked when Charles hung up.

“Sean. Something about his mum making a surprise visit? He wants me to cover his shift.”

“Now?”

“At ten.”

"I thought we were meeting your sister today?" Erik asked.

"Not until one, and it's only a two hour shift."

"Alright." Erik got out of bed, opening a drawer and hunting for clean boxers. “I’ll come with you, I’ve got some marking to pick up from my office.”

“Well,” Charles said, sliding his arms around Erik’s waist. “Maybe I’ll come and keep you company when my shift is over.”

“That sounds nice.” Erik murmured, turning his head to kiss Charles. He pulled back after a moment, smiling. Charles was looking at him strangely.

“What?” Erik said.

“Nothing.” Charles replied, kissing him again briefly before releasing him and going to look for his trousers.

* * *

They walked out of Erik’s building with their fingers intertwined, leaning into one another like two trees being buffeted by the wind.

“Would you rather have unlimited respect or unlimited power?” Charles asked. Erik looked down at him.

“Power.” He said.

“Interesting.” Said Charles. “Unlimited money or unlimited love?”

“Love.” Erik replied. “But then, I suppose that’s obvious seeing as I chose a career in teaching. No prospect for unlimited money there.”

Charles smiled. He was trying desperately to distract himself from the way that Erik had looked at him earlier, after they’d kissed. It frightened him, because it held something Charles had never felt before. He was certain that he’d looked back at Erik with the exact same mixture of awe and terror. It felt like they were teetering on the edge of something huge and profound, but neither of them wanted to push it too far.

“Unlimited money, power, and respect, or unlimited sex?”

“Oh,” Erik said. “That’s a tough one.”

* * *

They let their hands fall to their sides before turning the corner near the coffee shop. Charles clenched his suddenly cold fingers self-consciously. Erik shot him a glance and Charles caught his eye. Erik did a quick scan of the street and pulled Charles into an alleyway so conveniently located that they might have been in a film.

"One last thing." Erik muttered, and kissed him. Charles sighed into the kiss, aware of how clichéd it was and not caring a bit. Erik slid an arm around his waist and backed him against the wall. Charles's foot kicked an empty can and it rolled away with a hollow rattling noise, spilling a trickle of brown liquid. It wasn't the most romantic spot, but Charles didn't care when Erik's lips were so warm and he was doing that thing with his tongue that made a shiver run down Charles's spine.

Erik pulled away and pressed their foreheads together.

"I need to get to work." Charles whispered.

"OK." Erik replied, smiling.

* * *

Charles had always hated the little bell that hung above the door in The Coffee Bean and tinkled cheerfully when anybody entered. He suspected that this was because it was probably the same note as the bell of his phone alarm in the morning. It always gave him a sense of panic. This sense of panic was in no way lessened when he and Erik entered and saw Raven sitting in one of the armchairs.

"Charles!" She cried happily, leaping to her feet and throwing her arms around him.

"Raven, you're early!" Charles cried, half excited, half terrified, his face buried in her thick blonde hair. "I'm meant to be meeting you at King's Cross in three hours!" He could feel Erik standing awkwardly behind him. This was a less than ideal place to be introducing his sister to his, what, boyfriend? Had  they even discussed this yet? Their proximity to the university was setting him on edge, making his skin feel too tight.

"I was expecting a more enthusiastic greeting, but never mind." Raven said. She caught sight of Erik over Charles's shoulder. "Hi, I'm Raven!" She said, leaning around Charles to extend a hand to Erik.

"Erik, Raven. Raven, Erik." Charles gestured between the two of them helplessly.

"Hi," Erik said with a smile, shaking her hand over Charles's shoulder.  

"Oh, we have so much to talk about! Charles," she said to Charles, who was still standing there, frozen. "Don't you have to work? Alex said Sean got you to cover for him."

"I do." Charles said flatly. "Why are you here so early?"

"If you still lived in that house, you'd understand." Raven said glumly. Anyway, I thought I'd come here and surprise you." She cast a furtive glance at Erik. "You weren't at your flat."

Charles rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"Off you go to work then," Raven ushered. "Your boyfriend and I are going to have a nice little chat."

Charles shuddered. He turned to Erik. "Don't believe a word she says." He told him, and then he left Erik in the clutches of his sister. Putting on his apron felt like putting a noose around his neck.

* * *

Erik was pleased to find that Raven was delightful. She told him all about Charles and their childhood together at their parents' _literal_ mansion in Sussex.

"You know," Raven was saying, "Charles is kind of crazy about you."

"Oh," Erik said, taken aback.

"No no, I just mean that it's nice. He's never really... been like that. With anyone." Raven added.

"Oh." Erik said again. "I'm pretty crazy about him too, actually."

Raven said nothing, just smiled at him.

"I seem to remember you had blue eyes the last time I saw you in person, or were you wearing contacts?" Erik asked after a moment. "Then again, it was very dark."

"Oh, the club, of course." Raven laughed.

"Strange, your hair seemed lighter then too." Erik continued. Raven took a piece of her dark hair between her fingers and twirled it absently.

"I guess Charles must have skipped over one small detail." She said. Her green eyes began to turn a light brown, the colour bleeding from the pupil outwards until the entire iris was a golden hazel colour.

"W-Wow." Erik stuttered. He turned around in his chair and searched for Charles in the crowd around the till. He gave him a very eloquent 'what the fuck' look while pointing to Raven. Charles shrugged guiltily.

* * *

"She's pretty." Alex said, leaning casually on the counter despite the line of customers waiting to be served.

"What? Oh, yeah." Charles said distractedly, breaking his intense staring contest with the back of Erik's head and juggling two frappes and a mocha on his way back to the counter.

"You gonna ask her out?" Alex continued, chewing on a straw.  

"Alex, that's my sister." Charles sighed.

" _She's_  your sister?"

"Yes." Charles said, snatching the straw out of Alex's mouth.

"She single?" Alex asked a beat later.

"NO."

Alex watched Charles run frantically back and forth for a while until the queue died down. He looked back at Erik and Raven where they were sitting by the window.

"Wait," he said. "So you were staring at him?" He pointed to Erik, who was sipping the coffee that Charles had brought him earlier.

"Yeah." Charles said, very aware that he and Alex, despite not studying the same subjects, went to the same university, and it was very probable that Alex had seen Erik on campus.

"He's dreamy."

"Why the tone of surprise?" Charles asked. "You know I'm gay."

"You never came out and said it." Alex shrugged. At the other end of the cafe, Raven laughed loudly at something Erik had said. Charles's sense of unease didn't go away. He turned his attention back to his co-worker.  

"Alex, you've used my lighter."

"I assumed it was a joke present." Alex said defensively.

"IT'S SHAPED LIKE A COCK!" Charles cried disbelievingly.

"EXACTLY!"

Several patrons of The Coffee Bean turned around in their chairs. Charles smiled pleasantly and gave a small wave.

* * *

"He looks like he wants to pull us apart by bungee ropes." Raven commented.

"He's doing that thing with his tongue." Erik murmured. "He always does that thing with his tongue. Do you think he knows he's doing it?"

"Oh, he knows." Raven replied. "I've seen him get four dates in one night with that tongue trick."

"Impressive."

"Yeah. You know it works on girls too. Charles got his first girlfriend with that trick. Mary, I think her name was. Mory, Moira? Something like that." Raven said, taking a bite out of a blueberry muffin. Erik raised his eyebrows expectantly. Raven swallowed. "It took Charles  a little while to figure it all out, bless him."

Erik gave a huff of laughter. "It's a difficult conclusion to come to, especially if you're not exactly surrounded by supportive people." Raven waited for him to continue. "My mother was always very loving, but it still took me a decent number of disappointed girlfriends before I realised."

"What about your father?" Raven asked. She was picking at her chipped blue nail polish, but her eyes never left his face.

"He died when I was very young." Erik told her. Raven nodded to herself.

"Did you always know you wanted to teach?" She asked. Erik frowned slightly, feeling a little as though he was under interrogation.

"No, I wanted to be lots of things. A fireman, for example." Raven giggled.

"I bet Charles would love that idea." She said. "He loves a big strong man." Erik pushed away the mental image that conjured.

"Well," Erik grinned. "I am very tough when I mark essays."

Raven snorted into her drink.

* * *

When Charles's shift finally ended, he rejoined Erik and Raven on the large comfortable chairs beside the window, squashed next to Erik in an armchair. Erik's hand was creeping underneath his jumper, his fingers tracing patterns on Charles's hip and making Charles forget exactly what they had all been talking about. When Charles peeked into his head, Erik was wondering exactly where he had seen that fancy dress shop in Camden that one time.

"Oh," Charles said to Raven as they were leaving to get lunch somewhere very far away from the campus. "Someone from the flat above loaned me their blow up mattress, so there's no need for you to rush back tonight."

"Actually, I'm sure Hank will let me sleep in his room. I'll probably just crash on the floor or something." Raven said hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'm sure the floor is exactly where you'll be sleeping." Charles grinned. Raven punched him in the arm, but it wasn't as forceful as usual.

"Hey, what time are we going out for drinks tonight?" She asked.

"Hank's working until six, but we'll head to one of the pubs later." Charles replied, his hand brushing Erik's as they walked.

 _Can we go back to yours tonight?_ Charles projected desperately at Erik. _I don't think I can deal with listening to my sister and my best friend shagging in the next room._

Erik choked on his laughter and Charles elbowed him in the side, leaning into him as he did so.

"What's so funny?" Raven asked.

"Nothing at all." Charles replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued! As always, any comments would be lovely!


	14. Chapter 14

Charles set two mugs of tea down on Erik's bedside table and pounced on Erik's naked body sprawled across the bed.

"Oof." Erik grunted as Charles joined him under the covers. Charles stuck his cold feet under Erik's legs, pulling him closer for warmth. By now Charles was used to the freezing temperatures of Erik's flat, made even colder by the icy weather outside. There would be snow for Christmas, no doubt. He ran his hands along Erik's side. Erik cracked open one eye and wrapped an arm around Charles, drawing him into a kiss.

"You want toast?" Erik mumbled against Charles's lips.

"Mmm." Charles replied.

Erik was two feet from the kitchen when he heard the knock. He ran frantically back into the bedroom and grabbed his boxers from the floor. Charles frowned at him in confusion as Erik darted back into the hall and opened the door.

Emma gave him a bright smile and stepped through the door before Erik had even the smallest chance of shooing her away.

"Erik, darling, are you ready to-" Emma stopped suddenly. She took a moment to appraise Erik, her gaze travelling over his obvious lack of clothing, his messy hair and the red mark on his throat that Charles had so charitably given him the night before.

"Bad time?" She asked with a raised (perfectly pencilled) eyebrow.

"Sort of." Erik told her, desperately trying to smooth down his hair.

"You should have told me you had company, I wouldn't have come barging in here." Emma smiled, and then something in her expression changed. She froze, like a cat that had heard some far off noise.

 "Who are they?" She demanded.

"Uh," said Erik intelligently. "Just someone I met recently. A colleague, from the university." He babbled. Her face turned thunderous.

" _What_ are they, Erik?" Emma growled, stalking to his bedroom.

"Ah!" Erik blurted as she pushed open the door.

Charles was sitting up against the pillows, wearing Erik's reading glasses and perusing a book from the top of the pile beside his bed. Even in the current situation, the sight of Charles in glasses made Erik a little weak at the knees.

* * *

Charles looked up in shock as the blonde woman burst into the room. _Emma,_ he remembered. A sharp, sudden pain shot through his skull and Charles blocked it as soon as he felt it. Emma recoiled, narrowing her eyes at him. Charles hadn't known telepathy could be so violent, but he'd felt her inside his head so immediately that it was like someone had stabbed a shard of ice through his eye socket.

"Your _student?!"_ Emma hissed, turning on Erik and backing him up against the door. "The telepath? I had no idea you could be this _stupid."_

Erik rounded on her then. "As if you have any right to judge!"

"Of course I have a right! I'm your friend; I've watched you build your career out of _nothing."_ Emma cried. "How could you possibly risk everything you've worked for for some kind of pathetic fling?!"

"Emma," Erik said warningly.

"No." Emma spat, shaking her head, and then she was gone, leaving behind a crestfallen Erik and a feint smell of violets.

Charles sat there, stunned, the book still open in his hands. Erik rubbed a hand over his face, as though he was trying to wipe away the memory of the last few minutes.

"Erik," Charles said softly. Erik turned his head to him, but that was the only indication that he had heard. Charles got out of bed and walked up behind him, touching Erik's arm lightly. "She'll come around."

Reading someone's mind was often like dipping his hand into a still pool of water. If he went in cautiously, the ripples were relatively small and went unnoticed. Conversely, if he was to dive head first into someone's subconscious, they might catch on. When Charles reached out to Erik, he was overwhelmed by the thoughts that were crashing and breaking inside his head like waves, and it wasn't so much a case of trying not to be noticed, as trying desperately not to drown.

"D-don't." Erik said, startled out of his trance. He covered Charles's hand on his arm with his own. "Not right now." Charles licked his lips nervously. "I'm sorry, but I think maybe-"

"OK." Charles said quickly. "Alright." He pulled away and gathered his clothes, dressing hastily and stopping in front of a stationary Erik on his way out. "It'll be OK." He told him, pressing a kiss against Erik's lips. Erik was unresponsive for a moment before he brought his hand to the back of Charles's head and held him, kissing him back.

"I'll call you." Erik told him as they parted. Charles nodded.

* * *

Erik listened for the click of the latch before he finally moved. He picked up his discarded clothes, made the bed, went into the kitchen and made a cup of coffee. While he was waiting for the kettle to boil, he looked around his empty flat.

"FUCK." He said, loudly. " _Sheisse._ "

Erik stood there for a while, throwing around a few more German swear words and feeling a lot better for it. He was glad that deep down he still had some of that stubborn belligerence they were meant to be known for. His grandmother would be proud.

He didn't see Charles outside of lectures for almost a week, although they sent texts and talked on the phone often. They'd even attempted Skype sex, with both of them admitting after the fourth time Erik nearly pulled his laptop apart by the screws when Skype froze, that it was probably not worth the effort, or the £200 in electronics repairs.

Erik walked around the campus perpetually on edge. He didn't dare walk past the coffee shop where Charles worked. He imagined that this was what it felt like to be one of the people on the beach before a tidal wave hit. He could sense something big looming over him, and was simply waiting for it to hit.

* * *

"I want to track down the person that made up the 'secret menu' and punch them in the face." Alex said one slow afternoon as he and Charles stood behind the counter drying up mugs.

"We're not even a Starbucks." Charles pointed out.

"Let me tell you a little secret."Alex stage-whispered viciously. "These people do not give a shit. If one more person asks me for some made up drink that sounds like the product of pumpkin spice and about ten pounds of sugar, I'm going to break open their skulls, scoop out their mush for brains, make it into a frappe, and feed it to them." He snarled. "And I'll charge them extra for the whipped cream."

Charles snorted, stacking the mugs in the cupboard.

"What's been going on with dreamy boyfriend then? You guys on a break or something? I haven't seen him hanging around here lately." Alex nose dived straight into the thoughts that were clogging up Charles's brain.

"No it's... no. Nothing like that. Well, maybe something like that." Charles sighed at his own convoluted answer. "It's complicated."

Alex side-eyed him. "I want you to know that _I_ know that answer's bullshit, but I'm respecting your privacy."

"Thanks."

"You got anything going on for Christmas?"

"Maybe," Charles hedged. "Raven thinks the house might be empty over Christmas. Mum and Dad are heading up to Scotland to visit relatives; have lots of nice dinner parties, probably terrorize innocent pheasants with guns, that kind of thing."

"Classy, classy." Alex nodded along.

"So she was thinking we might be able to escape there for a little Christmas break of our own. Raven and Hank, and Erik and I." Charles added. "Well, hopefully Erik and I." He stepped back from the counter, giving the practically deserted shop a once over.

"Mind if I take my break now?" He asked Alex.

"I think I can handle the stampede." Alex replied dryly.

Charles patted him on the shoulder on his way out, collecting his phone from his jacket pocket. No new messages from Erik. He leant against the wall outside and rolled a cigarette. There was a light, drizzling rain falling as usual, and Charles shuddered, sure that it should be snow instead. His mobile pinged.

**15:33pm - CHRISTMAS IS GO!**

Charles grinned at the screen.

15:33pm - When do they leave??

**15:34pm - Like, one week. Pack your bags. Tell Erik to bring his speedos for the pool. ;)**

15:35pm - It might just be one bag I'll be packing. And how do you know about Erik's tiny speedos?!

**15:35pm - One bag? Still with the radio silence on Romance FM?**

**15:35pm - And I know how to make him talk. Also, I never said tiny.**

15:36pm - Fuck off do you. Haven't seen him in five days. Do you think he's having some kind of moral crisis?

**15:37pm - Your relationship does read like a forbidden erotic novel. With added nerd.**

15:37pm - THANKS.

**15:38pm - Gtg, keep me updated on the Erik shenanigans. Love you**

Charles sighed, deciding that biting the bullet was the best way to approach the situation. He dialled with cold fingers, burnt out cigarette butt dangling uselessly from his mouth.

"Erik, thank god you picked up. Look, I know things haven't exactly been ideal at the moment, but I really need to talk to you."

"Hi, yeah of course. I'm sorry about...you know." Erik's voice sounded very far away and somehow, lonely. Charles clutched his phone in one hand tightly.

"I think I might have a solution to our problem. Something that will get us far away from the university."

* * *

"Charles, that sounds wonderful." Erik said when Charles had finished explaining the plan for Christmas.

"I think it will be. And listen, about that whole thing with your friend Emma,"

"Charles,"

"Nothing's happened, has it? I think it's blown over. If she was going to do something about it she would have by now." Charles reasoned. There was a brief pause.

"You're right." Erik relented. "Look, I have to go. Thank you for calling, Charles."

"I miss you." Charles said quickly.

"I miss you too." Erik said. They hung up at the same time.

* * *

Erik stared at the bright white screen of his laptop in the dark of his living room. His eyes skimmed blindly over the words again, over the email address, over Sebastian Shaw's name at the bottom. Far worse than the title 'DICIPLNARY MEETING: PROF ERIK LEHNSHERR' was the little grey box above the subject that confirmed every doubt and every fear Erik had. The box that read 'cc: Emma Frost'.


	15. Chapter 15

Charles hurried around his room, grabbing clothes from his wardrobe and chucking them into a battered suitcase on his bed. His mobile pinged and he tripped over his rug as he leapt towards it.

**11:41am - Raven was joking about the pool, right?**

Charles made a face.

11:42am - No?

**11:42am - You can't possibly be that rich.**

**11:43am - Right?**

11:43am - Uh...

**11:44am - Next time we go out, you're paying for dinner.**

Charles rolled his eyes, picking up his toothbrush and shoving it into his wash bag. The train to Sussex was leaving in approximately half an hour and he still hadn't packed underwear.

"Hank!" Charles called, finally grateful for the thin walls.

"What?"

"Do you still have that box of condoms I gave you?"

"No!"

The revelation struck Charles like a brick to the face and he shuddered involuntarily.

"Forget I asked! Jesus Christ."

He picked up his phone again.

11:55am - We need to make a quick pit stop at Boots.

* * *

Erik met them at the train station with a Boots carrier bag in his hand and a smirk.

"You can thank me later." He told Charles by way of greeting.

"Don't worry, I will." Charles grinned.

"Guys we do not have time for sexual innuendo, the platform number's already up on the board." Hank hurried them along.

"Go, go, Mutant Squad!" Charles cried. Hank groaned.

Charles spent the train journey pressed up against Erik, sharing a set of earphones and slowly working their way through the entire contents of Charles's iPod. When Erik's mobile buzzed for the third time in two minutes, Charles raised an expectant eyebrow at him. Erik just shrugged.

"Work thing." He told him, and didn't answer the phone.

* * *

Erik wasn't sure why he hadn't told Charles. When his phone continued to light up with messages from Emma, he ignored them. He hoped Charles knew better than to read his mind. Emma hadn't been at the meeting, but the knowledge of her betrayal hung over him like a knife suspended above his head. He looked at Charles beside him, leaning against his shoulder, absorbed in a game of Candy Crush. There was a small crease in Charles's forehead that implied something more than concentration. Erik was used to seeing those kinds of creases in his own forehead by now, but the ten years he had on Charles didn't make it any easier to talk to him. Erik reached into his pocket and turned his phone off without looking, holding down the lock button until the screen went dark and a small fraction of the tension in his shoulders eased.

* * *

Sometime during the first half hour of their journey, Erik had fallen asleep with his head leaning on Charles's, and the paper over his knees like an old lady's blanket. Charles snapped a few opportune pictures before settling into Erik's side and closing his eyes as well. Hank woke them as they were pulling into the station, the pair of them groggily rubbing their eyes and yawning themselves awake as they tried to locate their bags. Once on the platform, Erik blinked wearily in the crisp, green surroundings. Even from the platform Erik could see the green rolling hills and thick patches of woodland surrounding them. He felt instantly more at ease, content to be around nature and clean air again.

Charles nudged him in the shoulder and Erik bent and kissed the corner of his mouth with an easy smile. They grabbed their bags and piled into the taxi waiting for them outside the station. Erik was trying very hard to suppress his anxiety and just enjoy this time with Charles. When Charles took his hand and held it in his lap during the journey, Erik felt a flood of affection and warmth that could only be Charles projecting into his head. He glanced at him briefly, but Charles was looking forward, his gaze fixed on the horizon beyond the windshield.

* * *

"You're kidding." Erik said as they got out of the taxi. Charles shrugged self-consciously. "Charles, that is a _literal_ mansion." Erik exclaimed.

"It's actually quite small. As mansions go." Charles replied quietly. Erik was still gaping at Charles's house when Raven opened the front door and ran at them screaming. She leapt at Charles, throwing her full weight into his arms. Charles staggered, but somehow caught her.

Once they'd all exchanged greetings, Raven ushered them inside and into the massive entrance hall. Erik stared stupidly around him for a moment, then he leaned in and put his lips against Charles's ear.

"How many bedrooms does this place have?" He asked nonchalantly.

"Uh, 25, why?" Charles replied.

"That's a lot of beds." Erik said. Charles looked at him. "In case we run out of board games."

Charles led them up the staircase and down one of the myriad corridors until they came to a the door at the end. Charles's bedroom was neat and painted blue. It had the quality of an old photograph, the furniture and other possessions frozen in a state of permanent expectation, waiting for the occupant to return. Charles chucked his bags on the bed and sank into the armchair in the corner of the room while Erik perused the bookshelves, just as Charles had done the first time he visited Erik's flat. Keats, Poe, Herbert... Erik listed off the names of authors in his head as he trailed a finger along the spines. On Charles's bookshelves were small ornaments and mementos. Erik picked up a key ring with a magic eight ball on the end and smiled, remembering that he'd had one just like it as a child. He shook it.

_Ask again later._

Erik grunted and put it back on the shelf. He could feel Charles watching him. Erik crossed to the window and looked out at the tops of trees and green fields. He looked down and picked up the skull on the windowsill.

"The neighbour's cat?" He asked. Charles looked up.

"Fox." He replied. Erik smirked. "Aren't you a little magpie, hoarding all these interesting things." Charles got up from the chair and stood toe to toe with Erik. Erik looked down at him with a half-smile.

"You know, I've never had a guy in my room before." Charles told him with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"No?"

Charles shook his head.

"Never brought the groundskeeper's son here for a bit of fun?" Erik murmured, his lips against Charles's ear. "Not fooled around with the boy in the kitchens?"

"No."

"Never tempted?" Erik continued, placing a kiss behind Charles's ear, then another on his neck.

"Hmm, the groundskeeper only had one child and _she_ wasn't exactly my type." Charles replied, hands wandering to Erik's belt, untucking his shirt.

"And the kitchen boy?"

"Well," Charles whispered. "He was a terrible kisser."

* * *

When the four of them reconvened later that evening, it was around the fire in one of the grand dining rooms, huddled under blankets and clutching glasses of wine.

"Fuck Bowie, marry Dylan, kill Jagger." Raven said after much deliberation.

"Why kill Jagger?" Charles asked. "I mean, we'd all fuck Bowie, you can't deny that the man has the thighs of a Greek God and he could take a man out with his hips alone, but why off Jagger?"

"I don't know, he kind of reminds me of a psychotic garden worm."

There was a brief pause.

"She's not wrong." Erik said.

"You know, I've always thought Bowie must be a mutant. Special, like us, I mean. That man's not fully normal, is he?" Hank said.

"Laser eyes?" Charles suggested.

"Disco hips." Erik said, shaking his hips so violently that Charles was nearly shoved from the armchair.

"You're a tiny bit widdled, aren't you?" Charles asked Erik with a grin, righting himself in the chair with one arm around Erik's shoulders. Erik smiled lazily and leaned in to kiss him with red-wine lips.

"Have you ever wondered why we all wind up together?" Raven mused. "Don't you find it odd that mutants always form communities and friendships without ever knowingly doing it?"

"We flock together. Like penguins." Hank agreed, Raven's feet settled in his lap.

Charles glanced briefly at Erik, whose face was buried in his neck. "I don't know." He said. "Maybe it's a survival thing."

Raven stood up, swaying tipsily. "Who's up for another game of charades?" She addressed the room. Hank raised his hand. Erik grunted into Charles's shoulder. Charles was about to answer when his attention was drawn to Erik's pocket as his phone lit up with another text message. Charles didn't even bother to read the screen this time.

"Yeah, why not?" said Charles. "I think my acting's just getting better and better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took bloody ages. Please do leave a review if you have the time though!


	16. Chapter 16

The pool was green and covered in a thin layer of congealed brown slime; dead leaves twirling helplessly on the gently wobbling surface.

"That's grim." Hank said. Charles nodded in silent agreement.

"If you jump in I'll give you a tenner." Erik told Hank. Hank seemed to seriously consider this offer for a few moments before declining with a grimace.

"I've made hot chocolate, and I found some marshmallows in the cupboard. We can roast them over the stove." Raven called from the house.

Erik made a face. "I'll have mine al dente." He said, turning to Charles as they trudged back inside. "You never mentioned that the pool was _outside._ "

It was Christmas Eve, and Charles was adamant that the only thing he wanted for Christmas was Erik, entirely naked except for a red bow on some part of his anatomy. As they strolled back inside, Charles was still grimly aware of the tense arch of Erik's shoulders as he followed him into the drawing room. Charles wasn't stupid. He knew something was wrong but couldn't put his finger on what it could be. He didn't dare take a peek inside Erik's brain out of respect, but whatever was troubling Erik was beginning to weigh on Charles's mind with increasing urgency.

Of course, it was lovely to spend Christmas with Erik, lovely that he had sacrificed in his words a blurry Skype call with his remaining aunt and a couple pints down the local pub with the new teacher at the university. Hank and Erik were good company. Hank had taken leave of his huge family until Boxing Day, and Charles and Raven's parents weren't back until the 28th. Despite the calm that Charles felt by being at home, he couldn't shake the feeling that somehow Erik was drifting away from him.

Raven and Hank slunk into the dining room to console themselves with their parents' extensive liquor cabinet, and Charles hung back, catching Erik's sleeve.

"Come on," he said, "I want to show you something."

Erik followed him obediently, unhooking Charles from his sleeve to lace their fingers together. They took a left at the end of the hall, passing a gallery of neatly hung portraits of austere looking men and women in ruffs or drowning in heavy skirts. Erik eyed Charles's ancestors critically, looking for a hint of Charles's nose in the face of his Great, Great Uncle Philip, or his blue eyes in the portrait of his Great Grandmother. Erik felt another tug, but more of a mental one this time as Charles beckoned him from the other end of the hall.

Charles came to a set of double doors. He opened one and slipped inside. Erik raised an eyebrow and followed.

The library was vast and sprawling, three floors high and crammed with the most fantastic collection of books. Beautifully bound old books with yellowing pages nestled in next to dog-eared science fiction paperbacks and periodicals. Erik spun slowly on the spot, taking it all in.

"You lived in here, didn't you?" He said at last.

Charles frowned at him, already losing himself in the stacks.

"Of course, this is my house."

Erik shook his head. "No, I mean you actually _lived_ in here. This was where you spent every moment you had, wasn't it?"

Charles smiled. "I'm meant to be the mind reader, you know." Erik smiled back, taking Charles's offered hand and letting him lead them through the rows of books.

It had begun to rain; big, heavy droplets skidding down the high windows.

"We don't have much German poetry, but it's a sizeable collection." Charles was telling him. "Maybe you could suggest some?"

"Have you been listening to any of my lectures?" Erik asked with a smile.

"I've mostly been staring at your arse, but every now and again a word or two finds its way in."

"Thanks."

Erik saw the corners of Charles's mouth lift in a smile as he pulled Erik into a little alcove at the end of a row of books.

"Cosy." Erik commented, looking around. Charles raised an eyebrow. Erik squinted at him.

"I thought we agreed that you pushing dirty thoughts at me never ends well for you."

"Debatable." Charles replied evenly as he sank to his knees.

" _Scheisse."_ Erik whispered, fingers combing through Charles's soft hair.

When Charles had him panting and embarrassingly weak at the knees, he stopped. Charles stood with a self-satisfied expression plastered on his face, and Erik spun them around and pinned him up against the nearest bookcase.

"You remember the first time I saw you in the library at the university?" Erik murmured, trying to sound as alluring as was possible with his trousers around his knees. Charles nodded. "This is what I would have done to you, right then and there, if I'd had the chance." Erik whispered, lips grazing the shell of his ear. Charles shivered.

Erik slid his arms around Charles's waist, stroking down his back, over his arse to the backs of his thighs. Charles made a small, surprised noise as his belt undid itself, and Erik tugged impatiently at Charles's trousers. Charles managed to free one leg before Erik was on him again, lifting him so his back was pressed against the spines of the books, his ankles hooked around Erik's hips.

Charles grunted as Erik slid a wet finger slowly inside him. Erik grinned against his neck, teeth grazing his skin. Charles didn't speak; even the thoughts he pushed into Erik's head weren't so much words as a general sense of urgency, of want. When Erik was inside him, Charles wrapped his legs tighter around Erik's waist.

* * *

"Why do I get the feeling that we just lived out one of your teenage fantasies?" Erik murmured speculatively.

"Because we absolutely did." Charles muttered, sprawled on the floor next to him with his trousers tangled around one foot and his shirt half unbuttoned.

When he felt able to, Charles propped himself up on one elbow.

"You're leaking." Erik told him calmly.

Charles sat bolt upright and Erik laughed. "Here." He clarified, pointing to his temple, trying to convey the absent thoughts that were finding their way into his head. Charles flopped back down again. "Do you really have that many filthy ideas?"

"I have a list." Charles replied earnestly. "It's a hit list."

"That's not a hit list, it's a bucket list. Of porn." Erik grinned.

"Tom-ay-to, tom-ah-to."

Erik shook his head. "It really is Christmas."

* * *

"Where did you two sneak off to?" Raven asked when they walked into the living room hand in hand. "Actually, don't answer that. We've got hot chocolate and Home Alone on the telly, which I think is worryingly appropriate."

Raven had settled herself into the armchair, tucking her legs underneath her. It reminded Charles of when they were children; Raven always tried to make herself as small as possible, curled up in their father's huge armchair. He looked around the sparse room; there were no decorations, but Raven had scavenged some holly from the garden and tacked it above the fireplace, which was giving off a delicious heat in the cold room.

"Do you think we'd be any good in a robbery?" Hank posed the question to the group, sipping Charles's father's forty year old whisky and making a face.

"You mean breaking in, or defending a house from a break in?" Charles asked, taking a seat beside him on the sofa. Erik strode over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a glass of port.

"We could set traps. This house is big enough." Raven volunteered.

Erik smirked: "If there's a break in, I'll be in charge of the bucket of feathers."

On the screen as Harry and Marv were finally being defeated by Kevin's final trap, Erik turned to Raven and Charles.

"Do you have any Christmas Eve traditions in your family?"

"Alcoholism?" Raven shot back with Charles's nod of agreement.

"You don't put mince pies out for Father Christmas? No reading stories before bed?" Erik gave Charles a teasing look.

"Oh! Who Am I!" Charles said excitedly. They all looked at him blankly.

"I mean the game, Who Am I, we always play it at Christmas!"

"Oh yeah! Anyone got paper?" Raven asked. Charles dug in his back pocket and found some Rizla papers. They all took one and used a biro Raven dug out of the sofa to write the names of celebrities on their papers. One by one they licked the back and stuck the papers to each other's foreheads. 

It took five minutes for Hank to give up, only to yell at them for giving him Mr Blobby as a celebrity when he saw the name written on the paper. When asked whether he was male or female, the others had found it surprisingly difficult to provide a conclusive answer, with Raven whisper shouting at Charles that it had eyelashes and it was pink, therefore it was a girl. Charles had pointed out that nothing that came out of the nineties could ever be confidently argued for.

Raven eventually guessed Cilla Black and was allowed to remove her paper with triumph. Erik and Charles were left staring with squinted eyes at one another across the table.

"Do you like me?" Erik asked, Raven's messy handwriting on his forehead declaring him to be the broadcasting legend Terry Wogan.

"You're alright." Hank responded.

"You're a national treasure!" Charles shrieked.

"Calm down your majesty." Raven giggled.

Charles, who had yet to run through the entire list of British royalty, scowled beneath the piece of paper that read 'Princess Margaret' in Erik's handwriting.

* * *

Raven ushered them all off to bed at eleven pm, whispering about Father Christmas and presents and stockings and sugar plums. Erik just laughed, his hand on Charles's back as they climbed the many stairs to their bedrooms.

"So Charles, do you believe someone's going to be coming down your chimney tonight?" Erik murmured.

"Dirty old man." Charles laughed, digging his elbow into Erik's ribs.

Erik rolled his eyes. "Don't even get me started."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took foreeeeevvvvvveeeeerrr. x


	17. Chapter 17

Charles stood behind her in the mirror, brushing his teeth and watching her change her hair from red to green. Raven caught him looking, and smiled mischievously, making streaks of white appear in her red hair, striping it like a candy cane.

"What's Erik up to?" Raven asked, returning to blonde again. "I saw him sneaking out of your room this morning."

"He told me he had secret Christmas stuff to do." Charles grinned, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth.

"If that isn't a euphemism for last minute shopping." Raven laughed. "What did you get him, in the end? I seem to remember you having a panic around November."

"Oh, I found this great edition of his favourite poetry, I wrote something in it too." Raven nodded approvingly, although Charles knew she was struggling to understand how anyone would want anything other than nice jewellery and a good bottle of vodka for Christmas.

"How do you know it's his favourite?"

"I do actually listen in his lectures, you know. I don't spend all my time ogling him."

"Shocker."

"Shut your mouth." Charles said affectionately. "Actually, I kind of... overheard it. You know, in his head. The night in the library." Raven raised an eyebrow, allowing him to continue. "The thing is, he doesn't have a copy, of the poems he likes. He lost it when his mother died. Or left it in the house where he grew up." Charles looked at himself in the mirror, lost to some borrowed memory of Erik's.

"Wow, and here I was thinking you were going to get him a coupon for an hour of raunchy sex." Raven quipped. Charles hit her lightly on the arm.

* * *

Erik was standing outside the living room when they came downstairs, his hand on the doorknob. Charles gave him an expectant look and Erik merely smiled.

"What's up?" Hank said, jogging down the stairs behind them.

"Erik's playing bodyguard to the living room." Charles said.

"The only body he's guarding is yours." Raven said, high fiving Hank.

Erik sighed loudly. "Merry Non Denominational Holiday everyone." He said, opening the door.

They all made appropriate noises of surprise at the thick fir tree in the living room, decorated with lights and tinsel.

"Was this your secret Christmas mission?" Charles said to Erik, who was smiling at Raven circling the tree with delight.

"Perhaps." He said, turning to Charles.

"You're Jewish!"

Erik shrugged a shoulder. "You didn't have a tree, I thought you should have one."

Charles shook his head. "I'm a goner." He leaned up and planted a kiss on Erik's cheek. "Happy Hanukkah."

"You're a day late." Erik informed him.

"I'll make it up to you."

* * *

"Dinner or presents first?" Raven asked, cuddled up to Hank on the sofa next to their new non denominational holiday tree. Charles looked at Erik, whose lap he was sitting on. Hank's stomach rumbled, which effectively provided them with an answer.

"You said you couldn't cook turkey." Charles was saying as they followed Raven into the kitchen.

"And I was telling the truth." Raven replied, opening the freezer. They watched as she stacked frozen lasagnes in a pile on the counter.

"Inspired." Erik said flatly.

"Hey, you get what you're given." Raven said and Erik grinned.

"Never did like turkey." He said, squeezing Raven's shoulder on the way past.

They returned to the living room, piping hot lasagnes on plates that they balanced on their knees in front of the telly, which was showing a rerun of 'The Good Life' Christmas special.

"Best Christmas dinner I've ever had." Erik said sincerely.

"Divine." Charles seconded.

Hank was face deep in the plastic container with tomato sauce all over his chin. "You are the best cook ever." He said, resurfacing. Raven grinned at him.

"Time for presents?" she suggested. "You have to sit on the floor when you give Christmas presents. It's the rules." Raven said, beckoning them onto the carpet.

"Mine are upstairs." Charles said, getting to his feet and hurrying to his room to retrieve the small stack of presents. When he returned, the three of them were sitting in a circle with neatly wrapped packages in front of them.  

Raven went first, passing Charles a small box and a very obvious bottle which turned out to be a pair of smooth silver cufflinks and a very nice bottle of red wine. Charles folded her into a tight hug.

Charles passed Hank his present - a stack of textbooks for the second term that he knew Hank was struggling to afford, and a box of After Eights, Hank's favourite. In turn, Hank gave him a big heavy box with a sheepish smile.

Charles unwrapped it to find a new, functioning microwave in its box, with a three year warranty.

"Turns out I was uh... quite far away from reconstructing it after all." Hank said, and Charles laughed out loud.

"Just what I've always wanted." He said, blowing Hank a kiss.

Charles retrieved his present to Erik from behind his back, pressing it into his hands. Erik took it with a smile.

Charles watched gleefully as Erik tore the paper, his hands stilling as he read the title of the book of poetry.

"Charles..." he said softly.

"I thought, I mean I know you didn't exactly tell me, but I know this meant a lot to you when you were younger." Charles babbled. Erik opened the copy of the selected works of E.E. Cummings carefully, flipping to the title page.

_Erik,_

_"i do not know what it is about you that closes_

_and opens; only something in me understands_

_the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses"_

_Happy Christmas._

_Charles_

Erik ran a hand over the cover again, speechless. He looked up at Charles, then pulled him into a hug, face buried in his shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered. Charles hugged him back. Erik kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love it."  

Charles smiled delightedly. Erik was still holding the book tightly to his chest when something written on pink paper slid out of the centre of the book and Erik picked it up, puzzled.

"Uh, that's nothing." Charles said hurriedly.

"Really? Because it looks like a coupon for one free hour of passion with my 'academically gifted toy boy'." Erik said with a grin, reading off of the paper. Charles swiped the piece of paper out of his hand as Raven broke into fits of laughter.

"Raven," he said, crumpling the piece of paper in his hand. "My devil of a sister." He passed her another obvious bottle and a small box.

Raven squealed excitedly when she unwrapped the delicate gold earrings and bottle of expensive Russian vodka. Erik reached out his hand to Charles as Raven was putting on the earrings.

"I'll have that coupon back, just for safe keeping." Erik said with a glint in his eye. Charles considered it for a moment before handing the ball of paper back to him. Erik took time deliberately smoothing out the crumpled coupon on his knee before tucking it into his pocket. He produced a small package and handed it to Charles, then dragged a larger wrapped present from under the sofa and dumped it in Charles's lap. Charles gave him a curious look, putting the smaller present to one side and unwrapping the one in his lap.

As he tore through the final layer of paper, Charles began to laugh.

"Insulated, lined and everything." Erik said as Charles held up the blue curtains. "Should block out all light in your horrible student room." Charles nodded approvingly.

"Somehow I think this is more for your benefit than mine." He said.

"Open the other one you brat." Erik laughed.

Charles opened the small present, which was surprisingly heavy. He unrolled it from the bubble wrap Erik had wrapped it in, letting the object fall into his hand. Charles stared at it.

The bear was made out of a combination of metals, twisted and moulded into the form of legs, head and a body. It was perfect, tactile and smooth to the touch.

"Erik, it's amazing." Charles said, studying the figurine with fascination. "You made this?"

Erik nodded, reaching out and tracing one particular shape that made up the body.

"Is that a fork?" Charles sputtered.

"You remember that restaurant, where we went on our first date?" Erik said, prompting.  Charles turned to him.

"Did you steal their silverware?!"

Erik rolled his eyes. Charles was looking at the coin that made up the bear's left foot. "That's a Reichsmark. Where did you get this?"

"Just something I had lying around." Erik said. Charles looked at him.

"Erik, I -"

"I thought you should have something that I - well, something that matters." Erik said quietly.

Charles looked at him, feeling an incomprehensible rush of emotion that was as much Erik's as it was his. He opened his mouth, fingers curled around the metal bear.

"I love you." He said.

Erik's eyes seemed to flash in panic for a second, the words stuck in his throat.

"I-you're welcome." He said haltingly.

Charles's face froze in a smile that slowly began to fall. He cleared his throat, looked down at his lap, brows furrowed.

"Anyone want a drink?" Raven said brightly into the thick silence that followed. Charles shook himself.

"Yeah. Yes. I'm sorry, I have to excuse myself for a moment." Charles replied, standing carefully. He left the room with the bear held limply in his hand. He could feel Erik's mind reaching out to his, searching for the connection they had shared moments before, but Charles shoved him out violently, throwing up a wall that shielded his thoughts, and the hurt that was welling in his chest.  


	18. Chapter 18

He was standing in his room, clenching and unclenching his fists. The metal bear lay on the bed, its small ball-bearing eyes peering back at him pityingly. Charles heard the floorboards creak outside his room and caught an unintentional whisper of Erik's consciousness. His thoughts were swarming like bees and Charles immediately withdrew as though he had been burned.

"Charles?"

Erik's voice was soft and low, and Charles hated how the sound of it spread through his head like warm butter.

"Can I come in?"

Charles sat heavily on the bed, his gaze drawn to the window, the grey sky and the black, skeletal trees. "Not like I could stop you." He said,  thinking of the thin key in the door that Erik could unlock with barely a thought.

"I know. I'd prefer it if you opened it, though."

Charles stood and strode to the door, unlocking it.

"Thank you," Erik said. It struck Charles suddenly how much older he actually was. There were lines around the corner of his eyes like tributaries feeding into a river. His mouth had feint creases when he smiled, and Charles's heart ached for a brief, heavy moment before he closed his mind to him again.

"Charles, _Ich bin..._ I'm a moron." Erik said, lapsing for a moment. "I humiliated you, I feel so..."

"So..." Charles said, face an open plea for Erik to find the words. Instead, Erik closed his eyes, shaking his head.

"Perhaps this was the wrong time." He said, barely a whisper. "Perhaps this _was_ a mistake." Charles drew back from him.

"A mistake?"

Erik's head was bowed, and he raised wet eyes to look at Charles. "I don't know. It didn't feel like one before."

"I'm not asking for you to say it. I just want to know why." Charles said firmly, although it felt as though something inside of him was breaking apart. "I have _never_ had a relationship that lasted more than two weeks, Erik, until you. So why does it feel like every time your phone lights up, you get a little bit further away from me? I want to know why you can't just _let_ yourself get close to me."

Erik looked as though Charles had slapped him.

"Did you even realise that the first thing you felt when you opened that book was panic? Because I felt it, I feel it when you look at me, too. I feel it every time I get inside your head."

"Charles, you're nineteen, this is a lot worse than you think it is, we are in _real_ trouble here." Erik said, but Charles was shaking now, and Erik could feel the distress radiating from him in waves.

"Yeah, I'm nineteen, but do you know what I've learnt in nineteen years that you haven't learnt in thirty one? It's fucking hard to walk away from something that's easy." Charles shot back. "Like a place at Oxford, or taking your parents' money so you don't have to work at a shitty coffee shop all year, or pretending that your friend Emma hasn't reported us to the university and you can carry on fucking your student behind closed doors without anyone knowing."

Erik opened his mouth, but no sound came. "So there," Charles said, the last of his anger leaking out of him. "What's the point in this if you're not willing to be there when it gets hard?"

"Charles, this isn't hard, this is easy, too easy. It frightens me, and I'm afraid I've broken whatever friendship I had with Emma, and my job - I'm going to lose my job, and I don't know if it can be fixed."

"Well, if you can't fix it, you've got to stand it, right?"

Erik paused. "Did you just quote 'Brokeback Mountain' at me?"

"It's a great film."

Erik stared at him in disbelief.

"If you can't do this, then maybe it is a mistake, maybe it's time we end-" Charles gestured between them vaguely, "-whatever this is."

Erik took a step back, out of the room. He met Charles's gaze and nodded, once.

"I'll leave in the morning."

Charles sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and took a deep breath through his nose. "OK."

Erik ran a hand through his hair, his gaze caught on the metal bear on Charles's bed and he turned his head away.

"Where should I..."

Charles shrugged a shoulder. "Pick a bedroom," he said flatly. "Any one but mine."

* * *

He was lying in bed, staring at a spot of bluetac stuck to the ceiling and trying to ignore that the reason he wasn't able to sleep was because he was, for the first time in months, alone. Distantly Charles heard a door open, footsteps, twin thuds as something heavy was set on the floor. He sat up in the dark, reaching blindly to the other side of the bed, his hand falling through empty space. Charles shook himself and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, thumbing the torch icon and using it to guide him to his bedroom door.

The noises became clearer as he padded along the hall, towards the main staircase. As he reached the top, Charles's heart thumped loudly in his ears when he saw a figure at the front door. He stepped out into the light from the window and said in his most confident voice.

"Hello?" The shadowy figure jumped violently and turned.

"Jesus, Charles, it's me!" Erik hissed, shielding his eyes from Charles's phone torch. Charles sank to his knees, laughing breathlessly, suddenly forgetting why Erik might be trying to leave.

"You nearly did me in! My adrenaline is so high, look at my hand!" Charles gasped, raising a shaking hand in horror.

"What did you expect calling 'hello' and shining a light in my face would do if I _was_ a burglar?!" Erik stage whispered back.

"Erik I had 999 already typed into the phone I didn't stop to think about the etiquette of confronting an intruder in the home! Why the fuck are you leaving under cover of darkness?!"

Erik's startled expression dropped suddenly. "There's a train," he said, awkwardly. "I thought this was best."

Charles swallowed thickly before speaking. "Right." They looked at one another for a moment. If Charles had reached out to him, he was sure that Erik would have been projecting so clearly and desperately every feeling of happiness and love and wonder that Charles had ever made him feel, but he remained locked inside his head, feeling those same things and knowing that Erik would never be able to say them out loud.

Erik's hand tightened around the handle of his bag for a brief moment. "I have a taxi." He said, gesturing to the door with the other hand.

Charles nodded.

"I'll see you in the new year." Erik said. When he shut the door, Charles folded in on himself, and sat facing the empty hall until he fell asleep with his face pressed into his knees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was tricky to write, I don't usually write arguments/break ups, so I hope it reads well!


	19. Chapter 19

Erik woke up alone in his bed after passing out for two hours. He still had his door keys in his hand. After a train journey spent watching endless fields and trees go past outside in an effort to distract himself from the fact that Charles had not sent a single text, he wanted nothing more than to curl up and forget about his varied and colourful mistakes. Or, Erik reflected, he could go and get absolutely wasted.

Two hours later he was sat at the bar in the pub round the corner, hunched over his fourth beer.

"Look, I'm not the intuitive type, but maybe you should put that down." Logan said, gesturing to the phone that Erik was holding tightly in his left hand.  Erik stared down at the phone like he was seeing it for the first time, and put it deliberately into his pocket.

"Thanks," he said quietly, taking a long drink of his beer. He could feel the other man's eyes on him.

"I'll get you another one." Logan said after a moment of deliberation. Erik nodded his appreciation.

As Logan opened his wallet, Erik caught a glimpse of a woman with striking red hair in the worn photograph tucked into one of the pockets.

"She's pretty." Erik said. Logan snapped his wallet closed.

"Yeah, she was."

Erik studied him. Logan turned to him, saw Erik looking and shrugged a shoulder.

"So," he said, "must've been one hell of a girl to leave you this messed up."  

Erik put down his beer. "Not a girl, actually." He saw Logan raise a single eyebrow and shook his head. "And anyway, I was the one that fucked it up. Massively."

Logan just smirked, and took a drink. "You're not the first and you won't be the last, bub."

Erik rested his cheek on his hand. "How are you getting on at the university? I never asked."

"It's certainly a culture shock, but nothing I can't deal with."

"So, did Shaw scout you, or did you join our ranks willingly?"

"You're asking a lot of questions."

"Sorry." Erik said, wiping the condensation on the glass with his thumb.

"I was teaching at this school, in the States. They're good with mutants there, much more liberal." Logan said. Erik nodded, prompting. "There's places where kids, mutant kids, can learn about their abilities and stuff."

"That sounds great. I mean, there's outreach programmes here, I think. Not much in the way of education though."

"Give it time."

Erik nodded again, studying his hands.

"As for your other problem," Logan shrugged his large shoulders. "What's that saying, 'the course of true love never did run smooth'?"

"That's Shakespeare." Erik grinned. "Didn't know carpentry teachers read Shakespeare."

"Hey, I've been around for a while." Logan replied with a smile. "Anyway, I'm no expert, but you're saying you're the one that screwed up, right?"

"Yeah."

"Well then," he said, taking a swig of his beer. "the fact that you're this cut up about it tells me there was something there to lose. So you'd better be the one to fix it."

Erik looked at him, and there was something in Logan's steady gaze that said more than he knew. Erik drained his bottle and set it down.

"Yeah," he said. "I know."

* * *

He was ten feet tall and wearing a cape made of crisp packets. To his right stood Debbie Harry, and to his left, the prime minister in drag. As Erik stared at David Cameron in his thigh high plether boots, something reminiscent of his conscious brain reminded him that he was dreaming, and that he didn't really have to slow dance with Alex Salmond to the tune of 'Lady in Red'.

Erik opened his eyes blearily, staring at once at the book on his nightstand. There was a glass of water beside his bed that Erik definitely had not put there. He remembered Logan helping him through his front door, absently enjoying the strong arm that was wrapped around his waist as the man put him in bed, the memory tinged with a hot flush of embarrassment. Erik reached out a hand for the book, then snatched it back quickly, rubbing his hand over his face and swinging his legs out of bed, heading for the shower with purpose.

When he re-entered his bedroom with wet hair and a towel around his waist, Erik reached for his phone which was charging beside the bed. He opened a new text and his thumb hovered over the 'C' for a moment before he typed Logan's name into the address bar and tapped out a message of thanks. He locked the phone when he was done and threw it into the pile of covers on the bed.

Erik got dressed, started up his laptop and opened the folder for one of his classes. He had several appointments coming up with third year students which would keep his attention for a few days. He heard his phone chime from within the bedroom and his shoulders stiffened.

**12:42pm - I am sorry, Erik.**

12:43pm - Then stop trying to contact me. 

He sent the reply to Emma and dropped his phone on top of a pile of papers. Emma was not usually one to text, but over the last few weeks she had been trying to get in touch through increasingly desperate means. The worst part of it was that he knew undoubtedly that it was her fault, the threat of being fired, the disciplinary meeting that had outlined in no uncertain terms that any fraternisation between a tutor and a student was explicitly forbidden. It had all been down to Emma and the incriminating rumours she had presented to the Dean.

Erik sat back in his chair, absorbed momentarily in the memory of sitting opposite Shaw in his office, his palms slick with sweat, being told that since there was no real evidence, just an anonymous source, no further action would be taken for the time being. The relief of it tinged with the sickness in his stomach at having his entire career dangled in front of him, his life hanging by a fragile thread.

He shook himself, staring into the laptop screen and beginning the slow task of sifting through his emails.

* * *

Weeks passed for Erik in a blur of activity. He attended every faculty meeting, every department event. He planned lectures well into the spring term and pre-graded essays for the third week back. He helped students draft their dissertations, wrote letters of recommendation, scheduled screenings of his favourite German films for foreign language students.

For New Years Eve, Logan had invited Erik to a party on the other side of the river, a rooftop bar rented out by some of his friends. Erik went, simply because he had nothing better to do, and was hit on by three different women who were, all of them, beautiful, but nothing like Charles. Nothing even close to the sharp attention and clarity of his eyes, the slight hips that felt so right under Erik's hands, the thick dark hair that Charles was constantly flicking out of his eyes, the certain confidence in his kisses, his smile, the rightness of it. He had left the party drunk and lonely, so desperate to tell Charles that he missed him, wanted him, that he ached with it.

When the first week of the new term rolled around, Erik had built himself up to such anxiety that his chest constricted at every thought of the lecture he would give on Monday. When he finally walked into the lecture theatre, his mind was screaming at him to scan the room for Charles's face. As Erik watched the students filing in, the clock ticking closer to 9am, he was faced with the realisation that the anxiety was unfounded. He began the class, and tried to ignore the fact that Charles was not even there.  

* * *

On Wednesday, Erik sat in front of his computer for his bi-monthly Skype call with his aunt Johanna, nodding along patiently to whatever minute family drama was happening as she chattered away happily to him in German.

"And how are you my boy, are you keeping well?" She asked him, twenty minutes into the call. Johanna had always called Erik her boy. She had practically raised him when his mother died.

"Very well, sorry to hear about Hilda and the divorce."

"It's all done with now, Thomas isn't too happy about the kids but there we are."

Erik smiled. "I feel like I'm a little behind on the news."

"There isn't that much." Erik thought the last twenty minutes would beg to differ. "How are you romantically, have you found yourself a nice lad to settle down with? You know I want that for you, sweetheart."

Erik could feel his smile falter. "It's fine. It's all fine." He saw his aunt scoot closer to the computer screen.

"Erik Lehnsherr, you tell me what has happened and you tell me now."

Erik still felt that same guilt at the use of his full name. His aunt had known he was gay since he was a teenager, and usually he informed her of who he was dating, if there ever was anyone. Not that there had been anyone for a while, before Charles.

"There was someone. Well, I hope there still is, if he'll ever talk to me again."

"Have you been foolish? I won't have any nephew of mine throw away love like that." Johanna scolded him.

"I promise I'll try. How is the garden?"

And that inevitably lead to another twenty minute diversion which took the attention off of him for a while.

Erik went to bed that night with the sick feeling of expectation bubbling in his stomach. He knew he should give Charles space, knew that what they had couldn't be thrown away so easily.

As he slipped into unconsciousness, his mind began to fill with images, voices. He rolled over and stuffed his head into the pillow, half-asleep. Then a single, clear image surfaced in his mind, as though someone had just reeled it in from a pond, a memory of himself smiling. Except it wasn't his memory, and the voice that spoke into his head wasn't his.

"Erik," Charles's voice said. "I miss you." 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fact that I've been writing this story for two fucking years struck me today. I am so sorry this gets updated so infrequently, but I am still writing, I promise! x


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